


The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You

by HomophobiaIsGay



Category: All Time Low (Band), Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst and Tragedy, Badass Patrick Stump, Established Relationship, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Marriage, Multiple Perspectives, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secrets, The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You-Song, read with caution, triggering content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:45:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomophobiaIsGay/pseuds/HomophobiaIsGay
Summary: For the last night I lie, can I lie with you?This group of assassin's has a big problem. They need to kill Pete Wentz. Their loved ones are on the line. It's simple, really; there's just one problem. Pete Wentz is engaged to Patrick Stump, one of the most feared assassin's in the city. And something tells the group Patrick isn't going to let Pete die without a fight.The group gets tangled in lies, love, death, and blood as they encounter problem after problem. Will they be able to protect their loved ones without angering Patrick? How long can Gerard, Patrick and Dallon keep their profession a secret from their lovers? Not everyone can survive this job. And when everyone is fighting to keep something they desperately need, whether it's love or drugs, someone is going to die.Loosely based off song by My Chemical Romance, 'The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You'.I do not own any mentioned brands, bands, or songs.This contains triggering content, such as death, gore, drugs, and suicidal thoughts. Read with caution and stay safe.





	1. Love is my Weapon

**Author's Note:**

> I finally found an apartment that accepts minors yooooooooo
> 
> Since I now have a place with wifi, I can finally write a serious book. I hope you all enjoy this, because I enjoy writing it! I've mentioned it many times, but this contains triggering content, so please, read with caution! You're important and I want you to stay safe. Enjoy!

Gerard sipped his coffee, tapping his fingers against the table anxiously. They were waiting for Dallon, as Ray prepared the projector for whatever presentation Mikey had prepared for them. Mikey never did presentations, and that was making everyone nervous. Well, everyone except Ray. He was the tech guru, he could have easily looked through the files, and Gerard suspected Mikey had already told him.

 

         Josh was scrolling through his phone, occasionally attempting small talk with Ray. Neither of them were really in the mood for a conversation, though, so the chatter died down pretty quickly. Mikey was looking over Ray’s shoulder, watching what he was doing with an unreadable expression. Even Jack and Alex weren’t talking, though they seemed to be communicating with worried glances at each other. Josh was on his fifth cup of coffee. Everyone was on edge.

 

         Dallon hurried in, dropping into a seat at the conference table. “I’m sorry I’m late.” He panted. “Knox caught a cold.” Mikey shrugged. “It’s fine, just don’t let it happen again.” Dallon nodded and Mikey sighed. “Is everyone ready?” Murmurs of agreement and nods filled the room, and Mikey signaled to Ray. Ray typed something into his computer and the projector lit up, showing a rather odd image.

 

         It was a young man, sitting on a bench, looking down at a ukulele in concentration as he played it. He had brunette hair and tan skin, rather good looking. The picture was high-quality; the only problem was it seemed it was taken without the ukulele player’s knowledge. Gerard was confused. Why was Mikey showing them this image?

 

         Josh, who was sipping coffee, spewed it out, narrowly missing Alex. He looked paler than normal. “Where did you get that picture?” Josh chocked out, looking shocked. Mikey just shook his head and Ray showed the next picture. It was Alex and Jack, with two other men, laughing and drinking. Jack had his arms slung around Alex and one of the other men. They all looked like they were having a great time. And, like Josh’s friend on the ukulele, none of them seemed aware that the picture was being taken. Jack sat straight in his chair, exchanging a look with Alex. “Zack and Rian…?” He whispered, and Alex was speechless.

 

The image changed to Gerard and Mikey. Gerard tensed up in his seat. That picture was of him and his brother, visiting their grandmother at a nursing home. It was taken yesterday. Gerard met Mikey’s eyes, who exchanged a solemn glance with him. “How?” Gerard asked, and Mikey looked away, sighing. The picture changed. Ray with his sister and his niece, at the park. Ray didn’t seem surprised by this; he must have already seen it. None of them were aware the picture was being taken.

 

         _Click,_ and the picture changed again. A little boy and girl, playing with a dog in a backyard. Dallon whimpered, and he realized those must be his kids. Dallon was in the picture, too, grilling. His husband, Brendon, was playing with the kids, laughing as the dog attacked him. The picture was taken from their own fucking _backyard._ Gerard shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This was creepy as hell, and he had someone he really didn’t want to see up there, being stalked. But he saw him anyways.

        

         The final photograph made Gerard want to cry. He almost did, letting out a strangled noise as Mikey glanced at him sympathetically. It was two men, sipping coffee at a small café. One of them Gerard recognized as Bob, smiling at something the other had done. The other man had Gerard’s red sweater on, using the sleeves that went way past his hands to hold his coffee. He was laughing. Gerard was terrified. Someone was stalking Frank. Someone, somewhere, was threatening the love of his life.

 

         “These photographs were sent to us anonymously, along with this case file. The photo of Frank changed to a picture of another man, along with information on the side. “Pete Wentz. Age 23. Works for the record company Fueled by Ramen.” Mikey read the information. “Whoever sent those pictures wants this man dead. He offered us two million. Each.” Gerard didn’t gasp like Josh and Alex did, but he was pretty sure he jaw dropped. Two million, each? That was insane. Dallon, who still looked terrified, narrowed his eyes. “The catch?” He asked, his voice a little scratchy.

 

         “The catch is, if we don’t take this case, our loved ones shown in those pictures will be killed.” Mikey said plainly. “Whoever this is, they mean business.” Gerard’s throat was dry. He has tried so goddamn hard to keep Frank out of his work. Frank thought he worked for a business down the street. He couldn’t let Frank get involved in all of this, he just couldn’t. Not only was Frank’s life on the line, but Frank would certainly leave him if he ever found out What Gerard did for a living. And turn him in to the cops. Both of those things couldn’t happen.

 

         “It seems like an easy, normal case. But I’m afraid that isn’t the case. There’s a reason so much is on the line here. No sane person would attempt to assassinate Wentz, not unless they were in the situation we’re in.” Josh raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?” Ray was the one who answered. “Pete Wentz recently got engaged to his boyfriend of three years. His fiancé is Patrick Stump.”

 

         The result of the name was chaotic. Alex and Josh actually started to cry. Jack looked terrified, and Dallon banged his head against the table. He looked like he might faint. Gerard went so pale, he blended in with the white walls behind them. Patrick Stump. No one messed with Patrick Stump, unless they wanted to die a terrible death. Trying to murder his fiancé? That’s suicide. Stump was a name feared amongst everyone in their line of business. One of the most cold-hearted killers out there. If you wanted someone to die, call up Mikey and his crew. You want someone to die slowly, tortured in ways you couldn’t even dream of doing? You call Patrick Stump.

 

         Dallon finally regained the ability to move, slowly sitting up. “This isn’t real.” He finally said, after a long moment of silence and tears. “So, we go after this guy, our families and us all get cut up. We don’t go after this guy, our families and us all get shot.” Ray frowned and Alex cried even harder. Not even Jack could calm him down. “Our contract was only for one more month.” Alex sobbed. “Then we were gonna move to-I dunno, Uganda or something. Why now?” Jack hushed his husband and let him cry into his chest, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Jack looked terrified too.

 

         “I know this is hard for everyone. Our loved ones are on the line here. If we can kill Pete Wentz without Stump knowing it was us, we can walk away with our loved ones. Rich.” Ray told everyone. Josh blew his nose, eyes puffy. Gerard was still frozen. “Can’t we just never decide?” He asked, and Mikey shook his head. “For every week we don’t bring our buyer Wentz’s head, they’ll take one of our loved ones. If we don’t have him by the time they’ve taken all of our family, they’ll kill them. We need to decide now and get working on it as soon as possible.” Gerard imagined Frank being taken. Or his grandmother. He couldn’t live without them; he couldn’t let that happen. Mikey sighed. “We’ll take a vote. Who wants to accept this case?”

 

         Dallon laughed, bitterly. Gerard slumped in his chair, feeling defeated. “Do we even have a choice?” Josh mumbled, and Gerard couldn’t agree more. Hesitantly, all hands went up. Mikey nodded. “Alright. We have to try. Toro and I are staying back to find as much information as we can on Wentz. We’ll call you all tomorrow.” Gerard sat in that seat for a good thirty minutes after the meeting ended, watching his coffee grow cold. He took a sip of the drink, ignoring how distasteful the coffee was. Ignoring everything except the thought of one man, who shouldn’t have ever been dragged into this mess.

 

         Frank Iero.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

         Gerard walked home in silence, contemplating his options. He could try to run. Take Frank and just flee, wherever Frank wants to go. But Gerard knew that wasn’t an option. He still had two years left in his contract, and rule one of his career was that you _never_ broke your contract. He’d seen people try, running to different countries and taking new names. The Contractor has found each and every one of them. And he, like Stump, wasn’t known for being merciful.

 

Besides, Frank would ask questions. He could always try and run without Frank, but that was just wishful thinking. Frank would be targeted due to his connections to Gerard, and Gerard valued Frank more than he did himself. Anyways, he couldn’t survive two seconds without Frank next to him, so that was out. They could always try to wriggle out of the job, but with Frank on the line? This person, whoever they were, are serious about this. They want Wentz dead, for revenge on him or Stump, Gerard didn’t care. Gerard would die before putting Frank in danger, he knew Mikey felt the same way about their grandmother. Dallon couldn’t survive without Brendon and their little ones, and he’d seen Ray talking about his niece to Mikey.

 

He didn’t know ukulele boy or the Barakat’s two friends, but judging the looks on their faces, they mattered to them. No one wanted to risk them. So, chickening out wasn’t an option. They have to take the safest route: taking the job. The thought of going up against Stump terrified Gerard. Patrick Stump was feared by anyone involved in the assassin’s business, and he was known for being emotionless. Gerard had been skeptical about the engagement, not able to believe Stump had actual human feelings, especially ones like love. Then Ray had found Pete Wentz’s social media.

 

Loads of his uploads featured Patrick. Patrick Stump was smiling, laughing, staring at his fiancé with a look Gerard could only describe as love. One look at Pete’s profile picture, one of him and Patrick, showing their engagement rings and smiling lovingly at the camera, and Gerard knew they were screwed. Patrick Stump was in love, and he was scary enough when dealing with regular people. People who were attempting to assassinate his fiancé? Gerard couldn’t even phantom what Patrick would do to them. Hopefully, nothing involving their loved ones.

 

Chances are, they’ll die, but chances of their loved ones’ living are the highest this route. Who knows, Stump may use Frank against him. But it was his best bet. Stump was a mastermind; Gerard doubted they’d be able to trick him. They had to try, though. They had too.

 

There was always the possibility of actually managing to complete the job without any problems. The possibility of getting out of this unharmed, with two million in their pockets. It was a thrilling thought, only darkened by thinking of how unlikely it was. It was a battle between assassins. Stump had the smarts, the drive, the motives, and the skills. Gerard and his group? They had numbers.

 

Gerard was at his apartment before he knew it. It wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t bad, either. If this all worked out, two million would buy them an actual house. Maybe they’d even find one with a white picket fence, just for the thrill of it. Get a dog, find a job that actually is legal. Get married, even. Adopt a kid. Gerard wanted all that with Frank. Now he was terrified he’d never have it.

 

He opened the door to their apartment, trying to still his shaking hands. He needed to calm himself down. Businessmen don’t come home from work terrified. He thinks. So, he plasters a fake smile on his face, knowing Frank would put a real one on. He always did. “I’m home!” He called into the apartment, closing the door behind him. “I’m in the kitchen!” Gerard raised an eyebrow. Kitchen? Frank never cooked. Ever.

 

Gerard made his way to their small kitchen, unable to contain a burst of laughter at the sight he was greeted with. Frank, covered in flour and egg, proudly attempting to ice a lopsided cake. “Frank Iero, what are you doing?” Gerard asked fondly, looking over Frank’s shoulder at his masterpiece. “Baking?” Frank asked. “I don’t know if I can call it baking. Maybe…creating food?” Gerard laughed again, and damn, it felt good to laugh. “Attempting to make food.” Gerard told him. “Any reason why you felt the need to make a cake?”

 

“Nope.” Frank shrugged as Gerard wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s waist. Luckily, Frank didn’t realize how desperately Gerard clung onto him. Frank was there. He was alive. “I just felt like it, man. It’s one of those days, y’know?” Gerard shook his head affectionately. “One of those days? The ones where you just feel the need to bake a cake? Totally, I have those all the time.” Frank’s laugh could cure cancer. Gerard would bet his soul on it.

 

“Shut it. How was work?” Gerard sighed. “That bad, huh?” Gerard nuzzled his head into the crook of Frank’s neck, breathing him in. He smelled like he always did: autumn and oranges, with a hint of that dumb cologne from Hot Topic Frank always used. “Just…my boss gave me extra paperwork.” Gerard lied, feeling guilty. It wasn’t like he could tell Frank the truth. _Nothing, we just have to kill this guy who’s engaged to another killer. By the way, someone’s stalking you. You might be in danger, but don’t worry. I’m working on it._ That was a convenient way to send the vegetarian out the door.

 

“Poor thing.” Frank turned his head, pressing a sloppy kiss into Gerard’s mop of red hair. Gerard smiled against Frank’s neck. “What about you?” Frank groaned. “Dude. One of the interns keeps on hitting on me. I mean, she’s cute and all, but you’re way cuter.” Gerard laughed, standing up, already missing the way Frank’s hair tickled his nose. “It must be hard, being the manager of a whole Starbucks.” Frank laughed. “ _One whole_ _Starbucks._ ” He repeated. “What an honor.”

 

“What’s for dinner, love?” Gerard was already fishing through the pantry, looking for something that wasn’t expired. “Uh. Cake?” Gerard turned and sent Frank an _are-you-serious_ look. Frank just grinned. “C’mon. I made it special!” Gerard groaned and leaned against the pantry. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Frank stuffed a piece of cake into Gerard’s mouth. “I’m offended you think, even for a second, I would joke about such a thing.” Frank said is such a serious voice Gerard would have laughed, if he was not gagging at the cake in his mouth.

 

Frank had somehow managed to make the cake both dry as hell and soggy at the _same time._ Gerard doesn’t know what flavor it was, but if he had to guess, he’d say dog food. “Oh, don’t be like that. It can’t be that bad.” Frank complained, taking a bite himself. He grimaced. “ _Oh.”_

“Takeout?”

 

“Takeout.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gerard and Frank ate their Chinese while they watched some shitty romance movie, tangled together with the blankets on the couch. “Oh, _come on._ ” Frank groaned around a mouthful of noodles and tofu. “Dump him! He’s cheating on you, it’s _obvious._ ” Gerard hummed in agreement, subtly stealing another fortune cookie. He threw the paper across the room, not bothering to read it. Those were dumb. He didn’t want to know what his future held; he wanted to eat a damn cookie.

 

“If this chick had a gay friend, she wouldn’t be in this shit.” Frank grumbled, falling back on Gerard’s chest. “If she had a relationship like ours, she would be far better off.” Gerard smiled. “If she had a relationship like ours, she wouldn’t need to worry about being pregnant.” Gerard pointed out. Frank snorted. “You would have beautiful babies, Gerard.”

 

“Why do I have to carry the babies? You have birthing hips.”

 

“You’re the bottom, though.”

 

“Don’t expose me like this!”

 

The duo fell into laughter, smiling at each other like they were crazy. They probably were. But it was fine, because they were crazy in love, and that’s what counted. Gerard couldn’t live without Frank at his side. Determination bubbled inside Gerard. He knew what he had to do. He would keep Frank safe, even if it killed him. “I love you.” Gerard whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you do much.” Frank smiled softly, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. “I love you too.” Gerard sighed happily. “I’m gonna marry you one day, I swear.”

 

“Only if you carry the babies.”

 

Gerard laughed, kissing Frank one more time. “Deal.” These were the moments Gerard wanted to stay stuck in forever. The ones where they were just lost in each other, in love, and at that moment, nothing could ever break them. Together, they were an unstoppable force. Every time Gerard thought he couldn’t possibly fall for Frank further, he looks into the short man’s eyes and he gets lost all over again.

 

That night, he watched Frank sleep, trying to memorize every piece of him. The way his hair fell in his face, the way his eyes fluttered under his eyelids as he dreamed. Gerard wondered if Frank ever dreamt about him. Because Gerard dreamed about Frank all the time. Hell, Frank was the one thing that kept his nightmares away. Gerard knew how shamefully dependent he was on the other man. He just couldn’t let Frank go. He couldn’t let Frank die because of him, he couldn’t let Frank leave him. Both would kill Gerard, and Gerard knew it painfully well. He never thought he would fall in love, but here he was. He was so far gone it fucking hurt.

 

Gerard let any doubts he had disappear. He would find Pete Wentz, and he would kill him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. He would get his money, marry Frank, move far away from this city with all of the bad memories it held. Patrick Stump wasn’t going to stop him. Because Gerard was in love, and love gives you unbelievable strength. Patrick was in love too, Gerard supposed, but he wasn’t going to think about that right now. All that mattered was the man sleeping next to him. Peacefully.

 

Gerard would do anything to keep that peaceful expression on Frank Iero’s face. And if he had to go up against a feared assassin to do so, then he will. That’s what Gerard told himself, but deep down, he knew the truth.

 

This life, this love, was gonna kill him.


	2. My Greatest Ally, My Worst Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dallon's struggles aren't what most people struggle through every day. Most men fight to keep their affairs hidden from suspicious wives, Dallon attempts to hide the fact that he murders for a living from his loving husband. 
> 
> Anger is building inside him towards this anonymous threat, and Dallon has never coped well with anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! This will be Dallon's point of view, I hope you enjoy it. This is sort of a filler chapter, the real fun will start with tomorrow's addition. Enjoy!

Dallon woke with a warm body wrapped around him, and two kids shaking him awake. “Daddy! Papa!” Amelie yelled, dropping their dog on Dallon’s head. Dallon sputtered as Penny Lane barked excitedly, licking Dallon’s face. Brendon rolled over and groaned. “Five more minutes.” He mumbled as Dallon attempted to wrestle the dog off his face. Placing Penny Lane on the ground, Dallon turned to his kids. “What do you two want?” He asked, checking the clock. How did those two have so much energy at six in the morning?

 

“Breakfast!” Knox said around the fist in his mouth. Amelie nodded excitedly, jumping on Brendon’s legs. “Give daddy a few minutes to wake papa up, okay? Then I’ll get you both breakfast. Why don’t you go to the kitchen and see what you want?” Amelie screamed excitedly at her younger brother, dragging the toddler off to the kitchen. Penny Lane happily trotted after them, wagging her tail with enthusiasm. “Why did we think having two kids was a good idea?” Brendon groaned into his pillow as Dallon sat up.

 

Dallon laughed, hitting his husband with his pillow. Brendon shifted, the ring on his finger glinting in the sunlight. Dallon didn’t think he’d ever get over the fact that he was married to _Brendon Urie._ Dallon’s lips turned up into a soft smile. _Brendon Urie-Weekes._ “Umph.” Brendon mumbled into his pillow, exhaling tiredly. “I hate everything.” Dallon laughed softly and got up, throwing on some shirt at random and sweatpants over his boxers. “I take it you want coffee, then?” Dallon joked, tugging the shirt on over his head.

 

“I love you. Did I tell you I love you? I love you so much. You, Dallon Weekes, are the love of my life.” Dallon shook his head affectionately. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m fighting against coffee for that special place in your heart.” Brendon chuckled into his pillow. “That too. Love that too.” Dallon walked over, pressing a soft kiss to Brendon’s ebony hair. “I know you do. Come downstairs when you’re ready for some coffee, alright?” Brendon mumbled something incoherent, leaving a loving smile on Dallon’s face as he went to go find his- _their_ children in the kitchen.

 

“Have you two decided on what you want?” Dallon asked, pouring water into the coffee machine and closing the lid. Knox and Amelie burst into giggles. “Pizza!” Amelie laughed, bouncing happily. Dallon sighed. “Pizza is not a breakfast food, pumpkin. How about pancakes?” Knox pouted, kicking the floor. “Pizza!” He complained, crossing his arms angrily. Dallon smirked, bending over and picking up Knox. “Tell you what. I’ll make you pancakes, _with chocolate chips,_ and we’ll have pizza for dinner. How does that sound, sweetie?” Knox’s eyes widened at the mention of chocolate chips, and he nodded frantically. “Yes! Yes!”

 

Dallon twirled him in the air, making Knox giggle. Amelie climbed onto the counter, reaching for the pancake mix. Dallon set his son down, helping Amelie off the counter and grabbing all the ingredients they needed. “Can I help?” Amelie asked, voice hopeful. Of course, help meant sprinkling the chocolate chips into the batter, but to the five-year-old, it felt like being a five-star chef. “Of course, pumpkin.” Dallon responded as the coffee machine beeped. Dallon poured two cups: one for him, and one for Brendon, who would certainly need it.

 

Sipping his coffee, Dallon prepared the batter, when Knox ran in, chewing on a beeping phone. “Knox!” Amelie exclaimed, using her _I’m better than you because I’m two years older and can boss you around_ voice, quickly snatching the voice from his grip. “Daddy! Someone’s calling you!” Dallon stuffed Knox’s pacifier into his mouth before he could cry about having the phone stolen from him, before gratefully taking the slobbery phone from Amelie’s grip and answering it. “Hello?” He stuck the phone between his shoulder and ear, attempting to hold the bowl of batter and spatula as well.

 

            “Dallon? It’s Ray. I hope I’m not waking you up.” Ray sounded uncertain on the line. “No, no, you’re fine. I’m just making the kids breakfast. What’s up?” Ray paused before his high-pitched voice came cackling through the phone again. “Mikey wants everyone to come in as soon as they can. No rush, though. Just some briefing about the job.” Ray added quickly. “Can you make it in soon?” Dallon closed his eyes, sighing, giving Amelie the perfect opportunity to dump half the bag of chocolate chips onto one pancake. “I can be there in half an hour.” Dallon replied, swatting away Amelie’s hands and giving her a scolding glance. “Great! I’m sorry to pull you away from your family, but it’s kind of urgent…”

 

“Relax, Ray, you’re fine. This is more important. I’ll be there in thirty minutes, okay? See you there.” With that, Dallon hung up, shooing Amelie away from the stovetop. “Alright, you put in the chocolate chips, I’ll finish it, okay? Can you get some plates for you and Knox?” He asked, scooping half the chocolate chips off one pancake and trying to evenly distribute them. “Can I use my Dora plate?” Amelie asked, squealing when Dallon gave her a nod. Dallon continued flipping the pancakes, enjoying the quiet for a minute before his husband stumbled in. “Coffee’s on the counter.” Dallon said automatically, flipping a pancake onto a plate. “You’re an angel.” Brendon muttered before finding his cup and taking a long sip.

 

            Dallon snorted. “Sure, and your forehead is a normal size.” Brendon scoffed in mock offence as Dallon called the kids to get their pancakes. “Any of those for me?” Dallon dropped a gooey pancake onto a plate, handing it over to Brendon. “Thanks.” Brendon kissed Dallon on the lips quickly. His lips were warm and tasted like the coffee he was drinking, along with a taste Dallon could only describe as Brendon. “Ew! Kisses!” Amelie gagged and Brendon pulled away, laughing. “Do you want some kisses, Amelie?” Brendon threatened, picking their daughter up and pampering her with kisses. “I think you do!” Dallon laughed as Amelie protested, yelling that she was too old for kisses.  Dallon grabbed her Dora plate off the floor before Penny Lane got to it. “Who wants pancakes?” Dallon yelled, watching Brendon put Amelie down, giving her one last peck on the cheek.

 

            His heart swelled with admiration. This was his family. This was his perfect, beautiful family. Dallon wouldn’t trade moments like these for the world. Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and as soon as the kids ran off with their pancakes, Dallon grabbed his coffee and a bagel. Brendon raised an eyebrow at him. “I got called into work early. Boss wanted to go over some things he wants me to present today.” Dallon gritted his teeth through his lie. He hated lying to Brendon, but some things Brendon was better off not knowing. Like the fact that he was planning on murdering someone he worked with. Brendon sighed, sipping his coffee. “I hate your boss.” He said earnestly. Dallon smiled. “I do too.” He answered truthfully, kissing his husband’s cheek as he went to leave. “I do too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Dallon nearly crashed into a tree on the way to work. It wasn’t that he was driving recklessly, he was just thinking. Dallon shouldn’t think as much, it was going to get him killed some day. Still, his mind roamed, worrying endlessly about his husband and toddlers at home. He was terrified of what would happen to them if his team was unable to complete the job. Knox was only three years old. Dallon remembered adopting him with Brendon, a crying infant at the orphanage whose parents either left him or died. Dallon remembered looking down at him and deciding the parents must have died, because who the _hell_ would leave such a cute thing behind? It angered Dallon, knowing he’d never have kids, but these parents were just throwing them away. Or dying. Whatever it was, it needed to stop.

 

            Would someone be as cruel as to murder a toddler, one who couldn’t even form coherent sentences yet? And Amelie, Amelie was such a perfect little girl. How could anyone imagine murdering a girl with such innocent eyes? Even Patrick Stump turned down jobs for people below thirteen, regardless the pay. The age cut for Dallon’s group was sixteen. It still sickened Dallon whenever a case of a teenager came up, regardless what they’ve done. And this person, whoever they were, threatened his children? His babies? That was a new type of animalistic. That was insane.

 

            And Brendon. Brendon was nearly thirty, Dallon was sure whoever it was wouldn’t have a problem shooting Brendon through the head. The thought of failing, coming home to Brendon lying dead on the floor, was simply unthinkable. Brendon didn’t deserve to be in this mess. It was Dallon’s fault, for letting Brendon fall in love with a supposed businessman, for being a teenage runaway, desperate and stupid enough for money that he was willing to sign a fifteen-year contract that he’d end up regretting. Brendon was Dallon’s description of perfection, his lifeline, the one thing that kept him from jumping off the bridge that one night. Brendon was his everything, and he didn’t even know he was in this mess.

 

            Dallon had half a mind to take his family and move somewhere, far away from here. But his contract still had two years left, and whoever was stalking his family wouldn’t take to that notion kindly. He even thought about just leaving them. After all, they were safer with him gone. But he doubted whoever was after them would relent on his pursuit, and in the end, he’d be making them more vulnerable. Besides, Dallon was selfish. And Brendon, and their children, those were the people that kept him alive in this miserable world. Dallon’s eyes hardened, grip tightening on the steering wheel.

 

He’ll play this game. He’ll kill Pete Wentz. Then, he’ll find whoever decided to threaten his family, and then _tear them apart._

When Dallon arrived, Gerard and Josh hadn’t arrived yet. Alex and Jack seemed deep in conversation, so Dallon settled on watching Mikey and Ray. Ray would point something out on one of the three computers, making Mikey raise his eyebrow in question. Ray would click on more things, explaining to Mikey in low, quick sentences. Dallon couldn’t help but notice how one would glance at the other when the other wasn’t looking, and a small smile played on Dallon’s lips. He remembered first falling in love with Brendon, how he danced around him cautiously. Brendon had to be the one to start anything between them, and Dallon was thankful he did. Dallon wouldn’t have ever worked up the nerve.

 

            Not fifteen minutes later, Gerard arrived, Josh following a few minutes after. Mikey, the unofficial leader of the group, eyed them. “Is everyone here?” He asked. ‘Yeahs’ and nods followed his question, and everyone circled around the table. “We’ve done some research on Wentz and Stump.” Mikey started as Ray plugged various wires in. Dallon sometimes forgot how to use his flip phone, how Ray managed all the tech was beyond him. “Patrick seems to be under the same contractor we are. Along with being an independent assassin, he’s the supervisor of two other groups. The groups are led by Vic Fuentes and his boyfriend, Kellin Quinn. They go by the street names Sleeping with Sirens and Pierce the Veil, and they both seem to be very dangerous.” Jack snorted, making a snide comment about all assassins being gay, which Dallon would have laughed at if he wasn’t furious.

 

            “Stump also has two bodyguards, Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley. It seems he’s instructed Hurley to keep his eye on his fiancé, because Hurley and Wentz have not been seen without each other for the last two months. We aren’t sure if Wentz is aware of Stump’s profession, but we haven’t found anything on Wentz in our database involving gangs or assassin groups.” Mikey relayed the information, his listeners absorbing the words eagerly. Fuck, Josh was taking _notes._ “All in all, we just need to get Pete alone, without Patrick’s knowledge, so we can kill him. We have layers of security we need to breach, though. So. Brainstorm.”

 

            The group fell into chatter, occasionally lashing an idea out. Most weren’t good, but everyone listened and weighed the pros and the cons. Dallon put a few of his out there as well, and one was okay, but the others weren’t good at all, and Dallon himself knew that. He just wanted to feel like he was contributing, honestly. That’s when Gerard spoke, who hadn’t spoken the whole meeting, his voice so quiet is was almost missed. “What?” Alex prompted him to continue, arms crossed and leaning back in his chair.

 

            “Love is your best ally and worst enemy.” Gerard repeated, his eyes sparkling with his artist’s spark. Gerard leaned forward in his seat, hands on the table. “Why are we making such a big deal out of this? All we need to do is start from the bottom and work our way up. Do exactly to them what was done to us.” Mikey was starting to catch Gerard’s crazy train of thought, and gasped, leaving the rest of the group to attempt to grasp at the idea. “We’ve taken down small assassin groups before; we can do it again.” Gerard continued. “Take down Kellin and his friends, and if Vic really loves him, he’ll do just about anything to keep us from pulling the trigger. We all know this.”

 

            That’s when Dallon caught on. Stump trusted Fuentes. If they had Kellin Quinn, they just might be able to convince Fuentes to hand over Wentz to ensure Quinn’s safety. Stump wouldn’t suspect anything until it was too late. “I see what you’re thinking.” Ray said, head propped up by his elbow. “The only problem is if Vic is just a crappy boyfriend and doesn’t really care. I don’t think that’s the case, though. Either Vic really, really loves Kellin or he’s a really good actor.” Mikey smiled. “Hey, it’s our best bet. I say we give it a go. Any objections?” Silence. Mikey clapped his hands, grinning. “Great. Now, everyone go practice your… _special talents._ You never know if these things will go awry.”

 

“Sure thing, Captain!”

 

“Argh!”

 

“ _Fuck you too, Jack.”_

In case you don’t have your copy of _Mikey Way’s Confusing Special Terms for the Occupation of Assassin,_ special talent meant assigned job. Gerard and Jack were good with shooting close up and close combat, so they specialized there. Ray was behind the scenes, working the tech in their devices and equipment. Mikey was kind of good at everything, so he went wherever he felt like. Right now, he was with Alex, working on his talent: acting. Alex could fake his way into getting anything he wanted, and Mikey had a poker face like no other. Dallon barely could keep suspicions away from his husband. There was a reason he was a sniper.

 

            The only other sniper was Josh, and their line of work was fairly simple, with few requirements. Have good aim, be capable of pulling a trigger. That simple. So, he lay on his stomach, shooting cans a good fifty meters away, two stories down. He was also bored out of his mind. When Dallon was bored, he either acted like a madman, which annoyed everyone else to no end, or would ask sensitive questions. Today, he settled on the second option. “Josh, I don’t mean to be intrusive, and you don’t have to answer me if you don’t want too, but I was just curious…I never saw the man on the photo before. The one that scared you.” Dallon didn’t voice the question, but it was there, and they both knew it.

 

            Josh sighed, a mixture of happiness and regret, before pulling the trigger of his gun. A can in the distance went flying. “Him? I don’t really talk about Tyler too much, I guess. He’s my best friend, my everything…my fiancé.” Josh blushed at the last bit, and Dallon perked up, almost missing his target. Almost. “Really? Josh, that’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell us?” Josh shrugged a little, peering into his scope. “Never really thought it would get this serious, I guess. Then I sorta fell for him, and everything just kinda happened. It was weird.” Dallon laughed. He’d been there. One moment, he was watching Brendon from across the café as he wailed to Spencer about Sarah leaving him, next he was married to said wailer with two kids and a dog. It’s funny, how it all happened so fast, but Dallon remembers every part of it.

 

            “I understand that. When’s the wedding? Does he know about…this?” Josh frowned. “Yeah, he does. I actually met him through the assassin’s network. He just got out a year ago. If everything goes to plan, the wedding will be in two months. I actually kind of wanted to invite you guys, if you wanted to come. I know none of us are here willingly, but we’re kinda a family, y’know?” Dallon nodded. He did know. Loosing these people might not hurt as much as it would if he lost his family, but it would still hurt tons. Killing innocent people is a great way to bond, apparently. “I’d love to come, and I’m sure my family would like to as well, if you two would let them.” Josh grinned. “Hey. The more the merrier.”

 

            Eventually, the day ended, and Dallon went to go pick up some pizza on his way home. Hawaiian for Brendon, pepperoni for Dallon, and cheese for their little angels. Josh’s upcoming wedding still on his mind, Dallon thought of Amelie in a little white dress, throwing flower petals all over the place and spewing out questions the entire ceremony. Knox in a tux, complete with his pacifier, since he refused to go anywhere without it. Those thoughts should probably annoy him, he thinks as he gets his pizza, but it just doesn’t. Amelie and Knox can be obnoxious, but they’re just toddlers. It’s what they do.

 

            And that’s what makes them human. Being human is important, because it means you have feelings. And feelings make you who you are. Everyone, Dallon decides, has a little human away. Even Stump. Even whoever threatened his three babies. Dallon’s lips quirk up in a sly, unnerving grin. Yes, the buyer was human. They could feel. And, for revenge on threatening his family, Dallon’s going to make sure whoever it was wishes they weren’t human so they wouldn’t be able to feel the pain and terror they’re going to fell.

 

Dallon’s going to strip away their humanity like they did him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback really, really encourage an author to continue writing to the best of their abilities. Please, tell me what you think of below, whether it's good or bad, or completely random! I'm not complaining!
> 
> Next: If You're Gonna be the Death of Me, That's How I Wanna Go (Mikey Way POV)


	3. If You're Gonna Be the Death of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey prepares for the mission, saying his goodbyes to family, just in case. Struggling with foreign feelings he pushes aside, Mikey rushes into the job headfirst, and it may not have gone like he hoped...but when have problems ever bother Mikey Way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I thought my draft got erased (I have no clue how to operate this new computer.) and I was so pissed...turns out there's an undo button for idiots who accidentally erase their gay fanfiction like me :)
> 
> Enjoy and stay safe!!

Mikey had been up all night, devouring any information he could find. Ray had finally convinced him to go home, but Mikey wanted to stop by the nursing home. He wanted to see his grandmother, make sure she was well and not suffering by the hands of some psychopath. His grandmother, Helena, had practically raised the two Ways. Still, it wasn’t enough, and the boys were forced to sign a twenty-year contract to make enough money to get by. Still, Helena tried, and that’s what was really important to Mikey. The fact that she wanted to help, after being thrown out by their two unforgiving parents.

 

            Of course, Helena knew about their jobs. She had cried, weeping over what the world had forced onto them. But she never stopped loving them both. Not when Gerard started dating Brent. She even watched heartthrob movies and ate ice cream with him when they broke up. She forced Mikey back to high school, and he was able to graduate, even if he was a year older than all the other seniors. Mikey was thankful and loving towards the widow, who now rested in the finest nursing home money could buy. It took quite a bit off Gerard and Mikey’s paycheck, but it was worth it. Buying an assassin didn’t come cheap, so they’d live. Gerard just decided he could wait for that dream house with Frank.

 

            Helena was in the living room, reading from a book. “Grams?” Mikey asked, drawing her attention. Helena broke out into a grin, showing off a few of her missing teeth. Helena was drawing near her end, and Mikey knew it. She was, what, in her mid-eighties? So, Mikey tried to visit every day, hoping to get in as many hours as he could with her before her hours ran down to nothing. He spent so much time with her, yet it never felt like enough. “Michael, dear? What are you doing over here so late?” Mikey smiled and sat on the couch in her room. “It’s only nine, Grams. I felt bad about not checking in yesterday, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

 

            Helena sent him the _it isn’t late but I know you didn’t sleep yesterday, Mikey_ look before sighing and closing her book. “You aren’t my nurse, Mikey. You made sure I have plenty of those.” Mikey laughed, taking the book from her and placing it on the mini-kitchen’s counter. “I know. I want to spend time with you, too. And…” Mikey hesitated. “I’m not sure If I’ll be able to come back, Grams. So, just in case, I wanted to say goodbye. Helena seemed concerned at that, standing up with the help of her walker. “Michael? What do you mean? Does this involve…your work?”

 

            Mikey frowned, hurrying over to help his grandmother. “Yeah. It’s about work. And it’s probably nothing, so don’t worry about it. I just…just in case.” His grandmother frowned. “Just in case.” Mikey thought of Stump, of his bodyguards and his apprentices. He thought of the stranger with the money, the pictures, and the drive to kill Wentz. He thought of Helena, smiling next to Mikey in the picture, of how Gerard had practically thrown up when Frank’s image appeared on the screen. How Ray had paled to an inhuman color when he saw the photograph with his sister and niece. “I’m going to make things right, Grams.” He swore. “I promise.”

 

            They chatted for a good half an hour, before Mikey assisted his grandmother to bed and headed out, wrapped in his coat and going through his phone. The device buzzed in his hand, indicating a new text. Mikey opened it, smiling gently as he saw who it was from.

 

_Ray: did you get home alright??_

_Mikey: heading home right now. stopped by my grandmas first._

_Ray: alright, stay safe and get some sleep._

_Mikey: you too._

            Mikey exhaled happily as he shoved his phone in his coats pocket, heading out to his car. He made the long drive back without a hitch, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he blasted Green Day in his outdated car. Mikey was exhausted, but that was a norm these days. Especially now such a weight was on his shoulders. It was easier for him to boss others around than too follow orders, but being the big guy did take its toll on him. Not that he would ever tell. He was stressed, the weight of his group-no, his _family-_ and their loved ones on his shoulders. Most of them wouldn’t make it without them, Mikey knew this.

 

            Unlocking the door to his apartment block, he made his way over to his bed, throwing his clothes on the floor to be retrieved later as he slipped into sweatpants and a sweater. He had barely flopped onto his bed when he felt his eyes starting to close. Was he that sleepy? It definitely wasn’t the bed making him drowsy, it was fine, but it wasn’t that comfy. When was the last time he slept? He was still trying to answer that question when he drifted off into deep sleep.

 

            Even though he was sleeping better than he had in weeks, he still had nightmares.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Mikey was at their offices bright and early, ignoring the fact he desperately needed sleep. He could sleep when Wentz was dead. They had a time limit, it was only five days to complete their job until someone was stolen. Was if it was his grandmother? Would her frail body be able to handle something like that? What if Brendon or Frank got kidnapped? Neither of them knew about the assassin business, and if they were taken, they would certainly have a rude awakening. If they made it out alive, they’d leave their other in an instant, Mikey knew this. Gerard couldn’t make it without Frank. He doubted Dallon could either. What if Brendon took away his kids?

 

            Too much was on the line to waste any time on sleep. Mikey read through Sleeping with Siren’s files once more as he waited for the others to arrive. Kellin Quinn: the leader and their target. Involved with Pierce the Veil’s Vic Fuentes for two years. Known for shooting abilities and hand-to-hand combat skills. Jack Fowler, good with a pistol and has an impressive collection of knives, from what Mikey’s heard. Nick Martin, their tech, and their own two snipers, Justin Hill and Gabe Barham. There wasn’t much on the database other than that. Mikey wondered if their buyer was an assassin themselves, too cowardly to risk going after Pete themselves.

 

            It made sense, Mikey supposed. How else would the buyer get all their information? The Contractor had set up a database of all the assassin’s, in case two groups wanted to get together and collaborate on a job. Mikey never guessed he would use it to plot against them. “What’re you doing here so early?” Mikey turned his head, watching Ray as he slipped off his coat. “What are _you_ doing here so early?” Mikey retorted, checking the time on his computer. “It’s barely eight. You still have an hour before we start prepping for the mission.”

 

            Ray shrugged. “I guess I like extra prep time.” He responded simply, looking over Mikey’s shoulder. “What’re you looking at?” Mikey handed the computer over to him, for Ray to work his magic. “The targets. I wanted to see what they’re up against. Did you know Kellin’s only seventeen?” Ray sighed. Mikey hummed in agreement, still feeling a little low about kidnapping a seventeen-year-old. But, hey, Mikey had to do what needed to be done. He didn’t know Kellin. He did know his grandmother and his crew, and they came first.

 

            “How old is Vic?” Mikey asked, getting up and checking all their guns were fully loaded. You never know when you might need that extra round of ammunition. “Eighteen. Joined the same time Kellin did, I think.” Ray squinted at his screen and typed in a few more words. “Yeah. They’ve both been in the system for about eight months. Ten-year contract.” Mikey’s contract was twenty years. He shouldn’t have chosen such a long bind, but the longer the contract, the more you get paid. And money was something Mikey had desperately needed back then.

 

            “Shame.” Ray hummed in agreement as Mikey settled into a pattern. Pop out the ammo, check, reload, pop it back in. Repeat. How many guns did they even have? No matter, it was a good distraction from Ray. If Mikey wasn’t doing something, his eyes would find their way to Ray, staring at his curly hair or sculpted face or soft lips. And Mikey _really_ didn’t want to deal with those types of feelings right now, not when their loved ones where being hunted and they were trying to complete one of the hardest jobs the group had ever faced. Now was certainly not the time to be giggling about schoolboy crushes. So, Mikey did what he did best: he ignored them.

 

            The pair made occasional small talk, but neither could seem to lighten the awkward air between them. Mikey didn’t really know how to make small talk; he was the kind to just get to the point. Ray tried, but it seemed he was short of topics as well, at least, ones that weren’t depressing. Ray asked about his grandmother, Mikey asked how his niece and sister was doing, that was about it. Ray even brought up the weather at one point. _It was that bad._

            Eventually, Josh came and made their duo a trio, and Mikey had never been so glad to see that pink-haired boy in his life. Josh was actually able to strike up a conversation with Ray, and Mikey was unsure whether he should be jealous or relieved. He felt a little bit of both at the moment, actually. After Josh, everyone started filing in, Jack and Alex coming in last. Mikey was relieved, they could finally get started on this insane job. “Alright, gather up!” Everyone formed a circle around Mikey, Gerard on his left, Ray on his right.

 

            “Everyone’s gone over the folders I gave out, right?” Luckily, everyone nodded, and Mikey didn’t need to give anyone a lecture about reading the papers and then retell the plan. “Everyone should know what we need to do, then. I want all of you ready to leave in ten.” Mikey dispersed the group with a wave of his hand, everyone heading over to where they kept their belongings to prepare. It was a simple in-and-out mission, it hopefully should go without a hitch. Mikey grabbed two revolvers and a slim, long dagger. He’d be in the front lines this time.

 

            Mikey was already dressed in ‘battle gear’-black shoes, pants, shirt, and mask. Their _black, what a surprise_ -jackets had their logo- a thin, crimson red X. He shrugged the jacket on, trading his glasses for contact lenses and he tugged the mask over his face. Dallon and Jack were already ready, Jack assisting his husband Alex with his gun. Alex would be on the sidelines, stepping in only if someone needed it. Hopefully, they wouldn’t even need to engage. A few minutes later, they were all piling into their two black vans, driving under Ray’s instructions. They parked a few blocks away, guessing the opposing team had some sort of security system.

 

            Mikey’s heart was racing with the thrill of the upcoming mission, as it always did. No matter how foolproof their plans were, Mikey always worried that something would go wrong. If something did, Ray could always help, though. Ray, along with being their tech man, was their unofficial medic. That one time Dallon was shallowly stabbed in the stomach, and _oh god, Brendon cannot see this_? Ray was on it, reducing the cut to a thin line that would soon fade. Now it was nearly nonexistent. But, like always, the feeling was there. It gave him a weird rush. They neared the target building, Mikey turned to his team and subtly nodded.

 

_Let’s do this._

            The doors, of course, were locked, but the windows were easily broken- _silently,_ using tools, because shattering glass would be a dead giveaway. Ray was at the van, connected with an earpiece. He had already hacked the security system, replaying old footage to cover up the crew as they entered. They came in through the kitchen, which was currently unoccupied. Voices drifted over from a room close by, and the feeling in Mikey’s stomach doubled and did backflips. This was real. This was actually happening, and he was either making it out of here with Kellin Quinn or he was dying.

 

            The group split in two, silently slipping to both entrances. Mikey could see a couch, two men sitting on it laughing. Both seemed unarmed. At least, they weren’t expecting them. That was good. Everything was good, and that was good. Ray’s voice rang out in his ears as Mikey listened to the group in the living room discuss a show on TV. “ _Ready for operation to commence. Engage in 3…2…1…begin!”_

 

            The black figures sprang to life, pouring into the room and tackled the figures. Mikey sprung on the first one he saw, one he recognized as Justin, tackling him to the ground. The room was filled with shouts of shock and pain as Mikey twisted Justin’s arm behind him, quickly finding a bulge in his jeans concealing a firearm. Stripping Justin of his weapon, Mikey pressed a gun against his head, pulling him up. And _oh my god,_ they did it. All five of them were at gunpoint, held up by various members of Mikey’s squad. Mikey shoved Justin into Josh, who caught him with the end of his rifle, as Mikey laid his eyes on his prize: Kellin Quinn.

 

            Quinn was smaller than he expected, his face not fully transformed into manhood yet. He had long black hair and piercing blue eyes, which were currently glaring at Mikey to conceal the shock. Mikey put on his best poker face and strutted over to Kellin, who was in Jack’s arms. “Hello, Kellin Quinn. You can call me Kobra Kid, and I wanted to drop by and chat for a bit.” Kellin remained expressionless, and wow, he was actually kind of cute. He hated when the victims were cute. “I’m not planning on hurting any of your friends, if they all cooperate.”

 

            That’s when hell broke loose. Nick broke free of Alex’s grip, grabbed his revolver, and shot. Luckily, Alex shoved Nick, causing his bullet to go awry, but it still connected. Unimaginable pain blossomed around Mikey’s lower calf as his knee buckled, and his head hit the ground. He vaguely made out Dallon mercilessly shooting Nick through the head as everything went blurry. Soon, the screams faded from his ears, too, blending in with the blackness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            When Mikey woke up, he noticed two things. One: he had been shot. His lower calf was bandaged and Gerard said the bullet was successfully removed from his seat in the front of the parked van to Ray, but it still hurt like hell. Two: the remaining members of Sleeping with Sirens were tied up in the back. Mikey distinctly remembered Nick meeting the tragic end he deserved. Justin looked shocked still, their Jack looked like he wanted to cry. Kellin…Kellin looked scared and defeated, his head hung low. Mikey groaned, alerting the two worrying men in front that he was awake. Gerard looked back, eyes wild. “Mi-Kobra Kid! Are you okay?” He practically screeched, making Mikey’s headache impossibly worse. _Damn, his head hurt._

 

            “Considering I was just shot, I’m doing alright.” Mikey responded, suddenly reminded he was fighting against time on this job as well. “Hey, Party Poison, can I use Kellin’s cell phone? I need to call Vic Fuentes.” Gerard raised an eyebrow. “Are you well enough to make a call like that right now?” Mikey scoffed. “Probably not, but we’re short on time here. We can’t wait until everyone is fine and dandy.” Gerard muttered something in response, ducking down and looking through the bad at his feet. “The others are back at base, by the way. Alex feels terrible for letting Nick go.” Mikey shrugged. It wasn’t Alex’s fault, this wasn’t his usual field.

 

            Mikey turned back, aware that Kellin’s gaze had snapped to him when he said Vic’s name. Kellin looked completely vulnerable, reminding Mikey he was new to this and only _seventeen,_ for Christ’s sake. “Please.” Kellin spoke for the first time, and his voice sounded broken and high-pitched. “Why Vic?” Mikey shrugged, hoping his poker face skills weren’t failing him now. “I have something he needs, and he has something I need. Simple.” Kellin bit his lip. “I-uh-I have some money. I have information. I can give you whatever you want.”

 

            If love made you look that open, Mikey wasn’t sure he wanted it. Gerard tossed a phone back, with a comment that Ray had already hacked it and gotten rid of all the pesky passwords. Mikey opened it and scrolled through the contacts until he found Vic. Kellin had but a heart next to his name. How adorable. “Don’t worry kid, I’m not interested in hurting your boyfriend. I just really need something-well, someone, and he has access to it. So, I’m going to offer him a trade. That’s all.” This only made Kellin appear worse, struggling against his binds desperately as Mikey pressed the call button.

 

It rang three times before a voice answered, muffled by the bad connection. “ _Kellin?”_ Mikey could hear Kellin shuffling closer from the back of the van to Mikey, trying to hear what Vic was saying. “Unfortunately, no, Kellin isn’t available at the moment. You’ll have to talk to me instead. How tragic.” Mikey didn’t like the practice, but he discovered long ago toying with people was the most productive way to get what you wanted out of them. His leg throbbed still, the pain making it hard to keep his voice even. If he had known it hurt this much getting shot, he never would have tried it.

 

There was a pause. Then Vic spoke again, voice dangerous. “ _Who are you and why do you have Kellin’s phone_?” Mikey’s lips turned up in a sly smile. “My name is Kobra Kid. I have Kellin’s phone because I stole it from him, just to call you. Don’t you feel special? Anyways, I wanted to talk with you.” Another pause. Vic sounded angry. That meant Mikey was making progress. “ _Where’s Kellin_?”

 

“He’s in the backseat. I’m sure he would love to chat with you, but he’s a little…tied up at the moment.” Gerard snorted at Mikey’s pun, Kellin just seemed more distressed. “ _What did you do to him_?” Vic demanded, trying to keep his voice calm and failing miserably.” Mikey smiled happily at Kellin, before returning to the call. “You see, that’s where you come in. You decide what happens to Kellin. You do exactly what I say, you can have him and his friends back as soon as you give me what I need. You refuse…do you know which places on the human body stimulate the most pain? I do.” Kellin seemed unfazed by Mikey’s words, but they got to Vic. “ _No! Don’t do that! I’ll do whatever you want, just say it_.”

 

Mikey laughed eerily. “That’s the spirit! Now, listen very carefully, because I hate when I have to repeat myself…"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are lovely, friends, please tell me what you think so I can improve or change something I'm doing incorrectly!
> 
> Next Chapter: Trade Mistakes-Alex Gaskarth


	4. Trade Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex feels guilty about the incident with Mikey, and is concerned about Dallon and the new captives. Jack somehow makes all of Alex's worry disappear, and Jack is what Alex really needs right now. Luckily, he's always there.
> 
> Always has been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.Sorry for not updating yesterday, my shitty boss (don't tell her I said that) changed my late nights from Thursdays to Wednesdays, so that will change into my break day. Sorry I couldn't say so in advance!
> 
> 2\. This chapter is nearly one thousand words short, but I'm not comfortable with writing sex scenes just yet(and there is one, vaguely implied, at the end of the chapter) and I felt like I covered everything I needed to cover in the two thousand or so words I wrote. So sorry if it was disappointing, but I promise more tomorrow!

            Alex felt like shit.

 

            No matter how many times Jack told him it was his fault, no matter how many times everyone told him he had nothing to apologize for, he still felt like shit. Mikey had even called him from wherever Ray and Gerard took him to treat him, explaining that he was fine, that he had no reason to blame Alex, because he wasn’t used to the front line. But Mikey, their leader, was shot, and it was Alex’s fault. How the hell is he supposed to feel better about that? In the end, his actions caused a friend being shot and a stranger dying. So yeah, Alex had a right to feel like shit.

 

            “Hey.” A familiar voice sat quietly, as a figure sat down besides Alex. Alex let his head hit the wall, accompanied by an angry sigh. His head was just…crazy, right now. Too many problems for one person to handle. “I was thinking Isobel.” Alex, not even realizing he had closed his eyes, let the chocolate brown eyes fall open lazily. “Huh?” Alex hummed, half-there, not in the mood to put up with Jack’s antics. Why the hell is he bringing up Alex’s deceased mother? “For our first kid. I know how much you loved your mom, and I think it would be nice to give her that honor, don’t you think?” Alex was fully invested in the conversation now, his lidded eyes blown open with surprise.

 

            Jack and Alex had talking about having kids before, of course. They planned to start a family as soon as they escaped their contracts. But it all seemed like Alex was planning someone else’s future, not his own. Surely, he was not married to Jack Barakat, he was not going to buy a house in England and have chubby, toddler feet tumbling about his front yard. That simply wasn’t what a guy like Alex had in his future. But hearing Jack say these things, it made everything feel real. “Isobel?” Alex murmured, closing his eyes again. Alex felt Jack press a lazy kiss to Alex’s neck, and Alex just let go. He let go of all of his ill feelings, of his regret, his worry, his guilt. He could save those for another time, a time when Jack released how messed up Alex really was and left him.

 

            “That’s a great name.” Alex replied, letting his head fall on Jack’s shoulder and breathing in the scent of cheap shampoo and apples that seemed to linger around Jack. Their fingers entwined, and Alex stared in awe at their wedding bands. Holy shit, they were married. Holy shit, Jack loved Alex. Alex would never get over that. They sat in silence for a few minutes. “It wasn’t your fault.” Jack said quietly, so quiet Alex nearly asked him to repeat himself. Alex snuggled further into his husband’s side. “I know.” He replied, just as quiet, but Jack seemed to have heard him. Jack always hears him. And, with Jack by his side, he really did know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            By the time Mikey came back, with crutches and a bandaged leg. Alex felt the guilt double, but Mikey brushed him off, laughing. “Dude. Chill. I’ve been through worse-I’ve done worse. Trust me, you’re fine. I wouldn’t have been able to contain him either. He was fucking _ripped._ ” Ray had let out a humorless laugh, and Alex had decided to leave them alone. Too be honest, he was concerned with the prisoners and Dallon. It was out of character for Dallon to shoot so quickly, to be so ruthless and unemotional. And their _prisoners_ -Alex hated that word-Alex felt bad for them. But he was willing to sacrifice them for Rian and Zack’s safety. Did that make him a bad person? It probably did.

 

            Sleeping with Sirens was still being relocated to the basement of their barrack’s, so Alex went to check on Dallon first. He was polishing his sniper, sending occasional glances at the clock. He must be eager to get home. Alex realized he was itching to see Zack and Rian again, to make sure they were alive and well and not abducted by some psychopath. This must be hell for Dallon, coming home every day and not being sure if he would be greeted by giggling children and a smiling husband. “Hey, man.” Alex said, sitting beside him. “You okay?”

 

            Dallon cracked a fake smile. “As okay as I can be in these situations, I suppose. What about you?” Alex shrugged. “Fine. I feel a little guilty about Mikey getting shot, but I can’t change it, I guess.” Dallon hummed in agreement and put his sniper down at his side, leaning against the wall heavily. “I just worry for my family. I worry about losing them, whether it’s them dying or them leaving. I don’t know what we can do other than this, and I can’t afford to let anything slip up. Y’know?” Alex nodded. He did know, somewhat. Rian and Zack meant a lot to the Barakat’s. And whenever Alex tried to imagine Jack and a kid of their own in this situation, he just couldn’t. The pain would be unimaginable.

 

            “I’m sorry.” Alex whispered softly. Dallon smiled. “Don’t be. This will all be over soon, and everything will return to normal. Just…let’s try to get this over as soon as possible.” Alex was too eager to agree. “We get off in twenty. I’ll leave you alone, I guess.” Alex said, standing. Dallon laughed, and Alex was thankful that it seemed genuine. “You aren’t a burden Alex; you don’t need to relieve me of your presence. You can talk to me whenever, about anything. I’m a pretty open guy.” Alex gave Dallon quick thanks, the words warming his heart, before heading over to check on the prisoners. He checked in with Mikey for a heads up before actually traveling to the basement, assured they were all chained up and unable to cause him harm.

 

The first thing he felt when he went down was piercing blue eyes, burning a hole into him. “Bastards.” One figure snarled, who, if Alex recalled correctly, was Justin. “You killed Nick.” Alex stared at him blankly. “You shot Kobra Kid. And, you fired first.” A wry grin spread across his face. “Don’t be like that. We like you have the first shot, all gentlemen-like. And you all say chivalry is dead.” His comment earned him countless glares, but he didn’t really care. The only thing that unnerved him was that no one in this room was over twenty. Hell, Justin looked fifteen. “You can’t kill Pete.” A voice said softly, and Alex turned to face none other than Kellin Quinn. “Patrick won’t let you. Whatever you guys are trying to achieve by killing him, it isn’t worth it.”

 

            It just came to Alex that the members of Sleeping with Sirens don’t know why they’re doing this. They must think Alex is an insane, cruel bastard. They aren’t wrong, really, but that isn’t what their group was about, and Alex felt the need to make it clear. “Vic agreed to kill Pete for you, right? For love?” Alex demanded, and Kellin looked a little taken aback. “Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t do the same for him. That you wouldn’t be willing to risk everything to protect him.” Kellin looked down, a little shamefully. “I can’t tell you that.” Kellin said weakly. Alex could feel the other members stare at Kellin and Alex with such an intensity Alex thought he might burn if this continued.

 

            “Now you know how we feel.” Alex continued. “We don’t want to kill Pete for glory, or infamy, or pride, or to attack Patrick. We don’t want to kill Pete at all. But it’s Pete or all of our loved ones, kid, and that’s not a sacrifice we’re willing to make. We’re hoping we can make it out of this with minimal damage. I want my loved ones to be safe, I want you guys to be safe, I want your boyfriend and his little group to be safe. But there are risks, and I have to take them. Get that into your undeveloped mind.” Alex didn’t know where all that came from, but he was on a roll, and it all kind of spilled out.

 

            Kellin was silent for a moment. He hung his head low to the ground, blocking his face from Alex’s view. When he looked up again, his eyes were wet with tears. “You’re wrong.” He chocked. “He’s not going to make it.” Alex raised an eyebrow, confused by the kid’s sudden outburst. “What do you mean?” Kellin let out a strangled noise. “Vic. I understand you guys have your reasons, and probably good ones too, and think you’re being smart. But you’re underestimating Patrick. Take how much you fear him now and multiply it by ten. That’s how much you should really be scared.” Tears now fell freely down the younger boy’s checks, his eyes and nose red against his pale skin. “Whether you meant it or not, you just sent Vic to his death.”

 

            And Alex believed him, odd enough. He knew Patrick was fucking terrifying without the person he was targeting someone who was looking to kill his fiancé. The plan would never work. He knew their plan was just a desperate cry for help, one that wouldn’t reach the ears of anyone but misery, and that they’d all be dead soon. Or worse. Maybe Rian and Zack will be bodies on the pile, too. “I’m sorry.” Alex replied softly, hoping Kellin realized how much feeling he had put into his words. He couldn’t imagine losing Jack. Kellin was going to lose Vic, no doubt about it. Kellin just cried harder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Jack pushed Alex down onto the bed, crawling on top of him and sprawling out, their limbs connecting in odd places. “Jack.” Alex mumbled, trying to keep the fabric of Jack’s sleeve out of his mouth. “Get off me.” Jack flopped in place, making Alex let out a small ‘oof!’ as Jack pressed down on his stomach. “Nah.” Jack shrugged, reaching for another pizza from the box, hitting Alex’s elbow in the process. “Jack.” Alex said, trying to keep his voice stern and not amused. He failed. It was funny how he was the actor of his group, but he could never lie to Jack. He’s either in deep or just a really bad actor. “This is a night for a shitty romantic movie and microwaved popcorn.”

 

            Jack looked over his shoulder, grinning, with clumps of pizza stuck in between his teeth. Alex shuddered at the horrific sight. “Then sex, right?” Jack asked, shifting on Alex’s stomach. “The sex part is very important.” Alex rolled his eyes. “Not if you don’t get the hell off me, it isn’t.” Jack pouted, but he obliged and rolled off his husband, settling into his spot next to Alex. “What will it be? Titanic or Mean Girls?” Alex scoffed, holding a hand to his heart in mock offence. “Mean Girls isn’t a romcom, you idiot.” Alex replied as he reached for a cheese pizza. “Hey, there’s romance in it! Besides, Mean Girls is the best movie of all time.” Alex couldn’t refrain himself from rolling his eyes.

 

            “ _Oh my god, Becky, I think I broke a nail.”_

            “ _Alexander William Gaskarth Barakat,_ I swear to god. Becky isn’t even a character, you uncultured swine-“

 

            “Jack, please, just shut up and play the damn movie already.” There was a pause, a moment of false angry silence.

 

            “ _Fine.”_

“Regina, look, I think her ass is bigger than mine!” Alex imitated his best Gretchen voice, holding a hand over his forehead is dismay. Jack feigned a gasp, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Oh my god, what do we _do?”_ Alex smirked. “We use her body to perform a satanic ritual, summoning a devil under our command. We use the girl’s body as a host to allow the devil to destroy the village, before cutting off the ass of the host and burning it with the bones of her family.” Jack sputtered and chocked, and Alex worried for a moment he was about to lose his husband. Then Jack burst out laughing. “Alex-oh my god-you sick bastard!”

 

            Alex laughed, throwing his head back and his shoulders shook, letting his whole body shake. “Of course I’m a sick bastard, how else would I get you to love me?” Alex smirked, letting his head fall into Jack’s lap. Jack rolled his eyes. “I dunno, let me think. You’re beautiful, smart, kind, compassionate, an _amazing_ fuck, wonderful, great, unique, determined, brilliant-“ Alex smiled gently. “You’re using the same ideas again, with different words.” Alex pointed out idly, making Jack laugh. “That’s because, unlike you, I am not brilliant.”

 

            Alex shook his head and pressed his ringed hand on his husband’s cheek. “You’re amazing.” Alex said softly, his voice losing his playful tone. “You’re so smart, Jack, you’re fucking brilliant.” Jack smiled softly down at his husband, leaning down and kissing his lips gently. It was kind of an awkward position, considering Alex was still on Jack’s lap, but Alex wouldn’t have it any other way. The kiss started slow and sweet, and eventually deepened, and the room suddenly felt very hot.

 

            “So,” Jack started, making Alex whimper when he took his intoxicating mouth off his own. “Still up for some fun?” Alex tugged on Jack’s shirt, pulling him closer, whispering something along the lines of _oh god yes_ and _I’m sure as hell down for it_ as the two bodies slipped underneath the covers, the empty boxes of pizza falling forgotten to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments really make my day, guys, tell me what's on your mind after reading this! Tell me what I'm doing bad or doing good, because I want my writing to be the very best it can be for you entertainment!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this story for this long, I promise it grows interesting soon!


	5. Herion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh is one of the most open people in his line of work. But even then, he has his secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sososo sorry I haven't update. My girlfriend got blood poisoning and it turns out I have cancer so ive been a bit busy trying not to kill either one of us tbh
> 
> heres the chapter you have due to you!! I promise updates will be every day again. unless I die. because thats a possibility lol
> 
>  
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING-Character Death, Drug Use, Description

Josh woke with a yawn and a small groan, quickly replaced by a sigh of happiness as he felt a smaller body curled up against him. Josh was blessed, and he knew it. He was engaged to Tyler Joseph, for one, one of the best men in the world. And Tyler knew all about the assassin business, and even though Josh was fairly certain it wouldn’t work, Tyler had agreed to go with Josh to lay low for a little while. Until it was over. Josh was certain the whole plan with Vic would work. Not because it was a good plan, but rather, it _had_ to work.

 

            Josh rolled out of bed, grabbing a towel and heading to the shower. After washing himself and throwing on some crappy clothing, Josh stared himself down in the mirror. His once vibrant red hair had faded into a pastel pink, his roots starting to show. He looked tired, he hadn’t had his coffee yet, alert at the same time. The alert, focused look was on he had gotten from years of sniping, he supposed. He ran a hand through his wet hair. How long had he been in the system? Four, six, eight years? He hadn’t been keeping track. He was twenty–six now. Joined at nineteen. Seven years. Three to go.

           

            “Babe?” Tyler yawned, leaning against the doorframe to their bathroom. He looked tired, but that was a normality for the younger man. He had managed to get away with a smaller contract, and he was two years clean. But Tyler had been on the front lines, and he had seen things Josh hadn’t. Josh knew that and tried hard to never push his fiancé. Everyone made mistakes, though. “Are we still going out for coffee with Gerard this morning?” Josh blinked. Tyler had an amazing memory, meanwhile, Josh often forgot what his age was. “Oh. That’s today?” Tyler let out a huff of laughter, shaking his head. “Yeah.”

 

            “If you still want to go, of course we’ll go.” Josh replied, drying his hair was a towel. “I want to meet your friends, babe. We’ll go. We’re due in an hour, can you be ready by then?” Tyler asked, grabbing his towel. Josh threw his head back and groaned. “Damn. I guess doing my nails is out of the question, then.” Tyler snorted. “That’s gay.”

 

“You’re gay.”

 

            “You got me.” Tyler gently shoved him gently, pushing him out the bathroom door. “I’m taking a shower, get out of here.” Josh waggled his eyebrows, attempting to be seductive. “And I’m not allowed to watch?” Tyler rolled his eyes and closed the door, a soft _click!_ signifying Tyler had locked the door. “No, you pervert.” Was his reply as Josh heard the shower start. Josh chuckled in amusement as he went to go find something more decent than a stained Metallica shirt and boxers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            “Remind me why Gerard chose the Starbucks on, like, the other side of the country again?” Josh complained, taking a series of complicated turns down near-deserted streets and alleys. “His boyfriend works there, if I remember correctly. Frank?” Josh nodded absent-mindedly, pulling up to a Starbucks on the bad side of town. Despite the location, it was well-maintained, and Josh really had to hand it to Gerard’s boyfriend. He must take his job seriously.

 

            Josh felt his fingers begin to shake, and he cursed silently. He hadn’t taken any pills today. He couldn’t let it show, though, because Tyler didn’t need to know about his addiction. So, he forced his hands to stay as still as he could keep them and he smiled at his fiancé brightly. “Let’s go then.” Josh said, and Tyler nodded, exciting the nice red vehicle. Josh was making good money, but Tyler’s contact had already ended. Two million bucks if you survived and kept your contract. Money wasn’t a big issue for the couple.

           

Josh held the door open as the two made their way into Starbucks, Josh quickly spotting Gerard’s fiery red hair and pointing it out to Tyler. “Hey.” Gerard said, his voice distant, as they sat down at his booth, stirring a coffee with a absent look on his face. “Tyler, right?” Tyler nodded, smiling at the other man. “Gerard? It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard only good things about you.” Gerard snorted and sipped his coffee. “You’ve only heard lies then.” He told Tyler, who frowned.

 

“Don’t say that about yourself.” Josh intervened. “You’re a good person, just stuck in a bad situation. All of us are.” Gerard hummed in response, something telling Josh he didn’t really believe his words. “Sure.” Gerard said drowsily. Josh exchanged a look with Tyler. “I’m going to go get coffee.” Josh told them, getting up and squeezing Tyler’s shoulder. “You two get acquainted, eh?” Tyler nodded and Gerard slowly blinked, before giving Josh a thumb up.

 

Josh was worried as he placed his order, along with Tyler’s regular. Gerard seemed out of it. Josh looked down at his shaking hands, trying unsuccessfully to still them. God, when had he last-? Josh pulled out his phone as he waited for the coffee to be made and dialed a familiar number. “Hello?” The voice said, barely audible through the static and chattering of the café. “I need more heroin.” Josh said instantly, not daring to allow his voice to rise above a whisper. “As soon as possible.”

 

The voice hummed and shuffled through something on the other line, leaving Josh standing nervously in the café, sending nervous glances to the booth his fiancé and friend sat at. “Alright. I can get you some if you drop by in three hours. It’ll be costly, though, because you didn’t place an order in advance.” Josh stared at the clock on his phone longingly. Three hours seemed so far away. “I don’t care. Just _have it.”_ Josh replied as a worker called out his name and placed two coffees on the counter.

 

“I’ll have it, man. Just be here in three hours.” The line went dead, and Josh tucked his phone away as he brought the coffee back to their booth. Caffeine helped, but nothing could replace the drug Josh found himself often injecting into his bloodstream.  “And I’m back.” He said, passing Tyler his coffee and sliding into the booth next to him. “Thanks, babe.” Tyler said, sipping from the cup. “I was just talking to Gerard about Frank.” Gerard sent Tyler a small smile at the mention of his lover’s name.

 

He didn’t seem as out of it as he was before, and his eyes kept drifting over to Josh. Josh shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to hide his shaking hands under the booth. “Where is he, anyways?” He asked Gerard. Gerard shrugged. “I asked. The worker said he was helping bring in some shipment or whatever. He’ll be out in a few, I guess.” Josh nodded and went to take a sip of his coffee. As he lifted his cup to his mouth, his hands started shaking violently, causing him to spill the cup all over the table.

 

“Oh shit!” Josh cursed as he sat the half-empty cup down, frantically grabbing napkins and attempting to wipe up his mess. Tyler blinked in surprise before scooting away and laughing. “Josh, you klutz. Did you get any on you?” His voice was a mix of laughter and actual concern, and Josh quickly brushed him off, telling him he was fine and agreeing that he was clumsy. _That was close._ Josh was attempting to clean up his mess on the booth when he caught Gerard’s eyes. Well, he didn’t catch them, because Gerard wasn’t staring at him. He was staring at Josh’s hands.

 

It had completely slipped his mind Gerard used to do drugs. Of course, he knows all the symptoms. He knows. _Shit._ “I think I got some coffee on my jeans.” Tyler said, patting a wet spot on his calf. “Are you okay?” Josh asked with concern, the problem with Gerard temporarily forgotten. Tyler nodded. “Doesn’t burn. I’m just going to go to the bathroom to wash off, okay? I’ll be right back.” Before Josh could protest, or volunteer to come along, Tyler had crawled over Josh and started towards the bathroom.

           

Josh watched him leave desperately, dreading by alone with Gerard, who was still staring at his hands. “Uh…” Josh started as soon as Tyler disappeared into the bathroom. They were going to have to have this talk eventually, and Josh would rather it be now than in front of his unaware fiancé. “How long?” Gerard asked, looking exasperated. “Josh, how long?” Josh looked down at his shaking hands, which he had hid under the table. “A little over a year.”

 

“A _year?”_ Gerard asked, sounded astounded. “How have I not noticed-never mind. Josh, how could you? Have you even told Tyler?” Josh sorrowfully shook his head. Oh, god, he was such a bad person. “Josh, you need to go to rehab.” He pressured. “I know it seems like a bad thing, it did for me too. But it _helps,_ Josh, it helped get me off them. I can hook you up with a good-” Josh frantically shook his head. “I’m fine.” He insisted. “Let me handle this myself, please. I just need time. If I go to rehab, Tyler will find out.

 

Gerard shook his head sternly. “Tyler needs to know, Josh. You’re marrying him, it’s only fair. If you don’t tell him, I will.” Josh felt a surge of unexpected flare of anger at Gerard’s demand. The _hypocrite._ “Yeah? Frank needs to know you kill people for a living, Gerard, you’re dating him. It’s only fair. If you don’t tell him, I will.” Gerard tensed, narrowing his eyes at Josh. “That is two completely different things, Joshua, and you know it.” Josh glare back at Gerard, challenging him. “Is it really?”

 

Gerard didn’t get a chance to respond, because Tyler came back at that moment, accompanied by none other than Frank, smelling strongly of coffee and something familiar Josh didn’t care to place at the moment. “Hey guys, I found Frank.” Tyler said cheerfully, seemingly unaware of the way the two boys were sending each other death glares across the booth. Frank leaned an elbow on the booth as Tyler took a seat next to Josh. Frank winked at the trio and handed Josh a new coffee. “Here. On the house.”

 

Josh feigned a happy expression and smiled warmly at Frank. “Thanks. He’s a keeper, Gerard.” Gerard didn’t miss the warning tone in Josh’s voice. _If you spill, I spill._ “Yeah. He is.” Gerard said tensely. He checked his watch. “Oh, wow. It’s almost time for me to pick up the car! We took it to get the oil changed yesterday.” Frank nodded in understanding, pecking Gerard on the cheek. “If those cleaners made one dent on my other baby, I’m suing.”

 

Gerard laughed, and it seemed genuine, despite the past conversation. Maybe he was a good actor. Maybe Frank had that sort of effect on him. “I’m sure the car is fine, babe. I’ve used that shop before.” He picked up his coffee and waved at the sitting couple, kissing his boyfriend quickly. “See you all around?” Tyler nodded with enthusiasm, Josh just faked a smile. “You know it.” Frank winked at Gerard as he left, laughing.

 

“Well, I guess we should be going too.” Josh said, standing up. Tyler sent him a quizzical look. “I have some paperwork I need to turn in by noon.” Josh lied. Tyler let out a small ‘oh’ and stood as well. “I guess we’ll have to cut this short, Frank, but I’d love to meet up some time.” Tyler said sweetly. Frank smirked. “Sure thing, hun. Just hit me up whenever.” Josh quietly urged Tyler out, and the couple waved once more before making their way outside.

 

Frank watched them leave, sighing in relief as they disappeared. “That was close.” He wiped his hands on his jeans, frowning at the blood under his fingernails. Thank God Gerard didn’t notice. If he did, who knows what would happen. His phone vibrated in his pocket, making him curse in surprise. Seeing who it was, he fumbled to answer. “Patrick?” He asked hurriedly. “I thought I did my case today-”

 

“You did, Iero. But it looks like we have a traitor on our hands.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Here. You know how much.” A bag of a powdery white dust was dropped in Josh’s hands, which were shaking as he fished out his wallet. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred…Josh frantically went through his bills until he conjured up what he thought was the correct amount. His dealer took the bills from his hands and flipped through them with a bored expression, humming a tune Josh had heard on the radio. “You gave me one extra, hun. That eager to waste your money?”

 

Blushing and apologizing, Josh took his bill back, embarrassed. Most dealers would keep the money, but Brent was different. Brent treated everyone who’s associated with Gerard kindly. Josh hadn’t told him Gerard has a new boyfriend yet. “How’s Gerard?” Brent asked casually, leaning against the wall of the alley they had met in. “Fine.” Josh said dismissively, itching to inject the lethal substance in his system. Brent and Gerard had been…dating? Fuck buddies? Josh didn’t know the details. He did know that Gerard left Brent and drugs behind a long time ago, but Brent sure hadn’t.

 

“Uh, no offense, but I really gotta go.” Josh told Brent, who looked disappointed as he nodded. “Sure. We can talk some time later. Besides, I have other clients I need to get to.” Brent winked and walked away, throwing back his signature goodbye. “See you around, unless you overdose. If you do, I’ll meet up with you in hell.” Josh nodded, half-listening, and fumbled for his needle, desperate to get the drug into his system. Finding it, he exhaled in relief, checking his surroundings for anyone happening to be watching him. No one.

 

When Josh stabbed the needle into his bloodstream, letting the heroin calm his body. It would take a while for him to calm, but he would be fine, now that he had his dose. Hadn’t he heard someone singing about the drug? Josh racked his memory, surprised when he remembered Kellin singing brokenly while Josh was on guard. _Heroin, my sweetest sin._ Josh didn’t know the lyric or the song, but Kellin had a nice voice.

 

Shaking his head, he slipped the bag and needle into his backpack, checking his surroundings once more before heading off. His hands were starting to still. When did his recreational smoke in the dark become a full-blown addiction to the powdery substance? Deny it all he wanted, Tyler would find out soon. It was inevitable, and Josh knew it. But Josh always liked to pretend he didn’t. So, with a breathy exhale, he disappeared back home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After a quiet day with Tyler, Josh drove to work. Today was Vic’s deadline. Josh felt guilty as hell. They were after Pete because their loved ones were in danger. Aren’t they making Vic do the same exact thing? Josh kept these thoughts to himself, however. He doubted Mikey would appreciate that kind of guilt in the midst of this. But hey, better the kid than Tyler, right?

 

Josh arrived, exchanged a few words with his team, and went to check on the captives. Kellin and Justin conversed quietly in the corner of the dimly lit room they were being held in. In looked dangerously like they were conspiring. Josh cleared his throat loudly, causing the two to jump and move a few feet away from each other. “Whatever you’re planning isn’t going to work.” Josh said simply.

 

Kellin and Justin just stared at him angrily. Josh shrugged and turned back, going over to the workout room and lifting for a while. This was how days without jobs usually went, dull and usually without a group of prisoners in the basement. All of that ended, however, when Mikey received a call. The plain ringtone chimed off, pulling Mikey from the treadmill to his phone, answering and pulling the device close to his ears.

 

He blinked at whatever the person had said, then put the phone on speaker, beckoning the group foreword. “It’s Vic.” He said at Ray’s quizzical stare. Oh, right. Today was Vic’s deadline. “Can I talk now?” Vic’s voice rang out through the speaker, sounding very tired. “Go on, kid.” Mikey responded. “I…uh, can I talk to Kellin?”

 

“No. Not until you-” Mikey was interrupted by Vic’s voice. “I know. I just…please. Let me talk to Kellin, _please._ ” Only a death person could miss the raw desperation in his voice. Mikey looked up, raising an eyebrow. Vic was desperate. His eyes fell on Gerard, who tensely nodded. “If you say _anything_ to him about anything we discussed, he’ll have a bullet through his brain.” Mikey threatened before walking to the basement.

 

Everyone followed, curious as to what was happening. Kellin and his friends looked up, faces a mixture of confusion and anger as the group spilled into the room. Mikey scoffed and held the phone out to Kellin, who raised an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend is calling.” Mikey mumbled, watching Kellin’s eyes widen and scrambled for the phone. “Keep it on speaker.” Kellin nodded, and Sleeping with Sirens huddled around their leader. “Vic?” Kellin asked delicately, waiting anxiously for a response.

 

“Hey Kells.” Vic’s voice rang out through the room, holding some sense of finality. “I just wanted to call to say goodbye, and tell those people I didn’t give out any of their information. They can’t hurt you if I didn’t say anything, right?” Kellin bit his lip, alarmed. “What do you mean? Vic?” A sickening feeling twisted in Josh’s gut as he heard a gun click on the other line. _Oh god._ “He let me make one last call.” Vic said slowly. “And I wanted to say I love you.”

 

“ _Shit.”_ Alex breathed next to Josh, who was holding his breath. “Vic?” Kellin asked, a little more desperate. “I love you, Kells.” Josh inhaled deeply, and before he got to exhale, he was rudely interrupted by a loud gunshot. Josh instinctively reached for his rifle before realizing it came from the other line. A sickening _thud_ signified a body falling to the floor, and Kellin clumsily dropped the phone to the floor, before picking it up again, clenching it with tears in his eyes. “Vic?” He said quietly, his voice so fragile Josh thought he would break at any moment. Josh let his mind picture him, broken and helpless on the floor, Tyler shot dead over the phone. “Vic?”

 

The voice responding was different, softer than Vic’s but holding no emotion. God, Patrick was a psychopath. An _engaged_ psychopath. “Hello Kellin.” The voice, which Josh assumed was Patrick’s, replied in almost a sing-song voice. “Vic can’t answer the phone right now. He’s busy tending to the bullet in his brain.” And Kellin _broke._ He screamed, sobbing, and threw the phone at Josh before falling to the floor. Josh fumbled with catching the phone.

 

Did Patrick have no mercy? Josh was surprisingly furious. He was just a kid! “What the hell?” He seethed into the phone, shifting the attention from Kellin to Josh. “Why would you do that? He’s not even legally an adult yet! He didn’t have a _fucking choice._ Are you that cold-hearted?” He was screaming like Kellin now, face flushed red with anger and disbelief. Because this was their only shot. It was over now. And _god,_ Tyler…

 

“He knew the rules. Vic should have come to me. Joshua Dun, correct? I’ve already pulled up the information for most of your group. Minus the leader and his brother, they’re surprisingly well-hidden. But I’ll find them eventually.” Fuck, Patrick sounded _bored._ He was an animal. Josh froze in fear, mouth gaping, along with the rest of the group. “I don’t care what you think you’re accomplishing, but from what I’ve been able to gather, you’re after Pete Wentz.”

 

A pause. “And that’s the worst decision you’ve made in your short little lifetime. My suggestion is to run like your life depends on it. Because it does. Oh, and one more thing. Does the name ‘Brendon Urie-Weekes’ ring a bell? I have this weird feeling he’s not at home, Dallon.” Josh’s eyes flitted over to Dallon’s, who was completely frozen. “Here’s the deal. You bring me one of yours,and Kellin, and I’ll give him back. Maybe I’ll even hear out your reasoning behind trying to assassinate my fiancé before I kill you. Anyways. You have a day before I put a knife in Brendon’s pretty forehead. _Ciao.”_

The line went dead, and everything went silent, ruined only by the horrid, broken sobs from Kellin.  _Well shit._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Vic so now I'm sad but oh well
> 
> Next Chapter: The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide-Alex Garskath


	6. We Know Where You Fucking Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has always been suicidal. All he needs is a little push. And taking Jack away? That's a pretty big push.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My place has no wifi so I can't update on weekends welp
> 
> here it is
> 
> WARNING-CHARACTER DEATH

            Alex could _pin_ when they broke.

 

            He could see it in Kellin when the gun was shot, see how his whole composure changed from desperate to shocked to _broken._ He could see Dallon’s eyes shatter when he was told Patrick had Brendon. Alex could see two people-one of which he happened to care about-be destroyed in the same minute. He hated it. Jack knew he hated it, and he squeezed his shoulder, whispering in Alex’s ear to breath.

 

            How was Jack so calm? Alex inhaled shakily and sent a glance at his husband, who was standing behind him and trying to keep his face emotionless. Alex knew him, though, and could feel the slight tremor in his hand and see the shaky bottom lip. Jack was trying to keep his composure, unlike Alex, who was freely crying. Nothing happened to him, he shouldn’t be crying. But he was anyways, silent tears streaming down his cheeks.

 

            Someone just _died._ Vic was shot dead while he was on the phone with his boyfriend. How was that fair? That must have been torture for them both. Not to mention Vic had been someone who worked for Patrick, and he was shot without a hint of guilt or remorse. Alex would hate to imagine what Patrick did to people that weren’t close to him. He had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t as quick as a shot to the head.

 

            The room felt so crowded, and breath was getting really hard to come by. Or maybe it was the fact that this was real was making breathing so hard. Alex had killed people, sure, he knew death was an actual thing. But this was the first time it affected him, and it wasn’t a good feeling at all. Alex felt sick at the fact he had created this feeling in others, only ten times worse, by slitting throats and pulling triggers. Alex almost felt like laughing, because _damn,_ this took the whole _I hate my job_ thing to another level.

 

            Everything was getting really fuzzy, and he could barely manage to register a hand leading him out of the room, away from the sobs and towards fresher air. Alex couldn’t tell whose hand was attached to his elbow and he didn’t really care; he just wanted to get away from the chaos and the hand was guiding him in the right direction. It was probably Jack, anyways. Jack had nice hands.

 

            “Breathe.” His husband’s familiar voice said into his ear when they stopped outside the building, setting a trembling Alex against the wall. He already knew what was happening-Alex was having an anxiety attack. “Remember the breathing exercises we went over? Can you do those for me, love?” Alex clung onto the fuzzy voice and tried to recall the methods Jack was talking about, leaning into his touch. Sometimes he needed Jack there to hold him through the dizziness, sometimes he needed to be alone. This round, he was definitely in need of the former.

 

            Jack held him and whispered words Alex couldn’t quite comprehend, his voice soothing and gentle. Alex focused on his breathing, counting between breaths and trying to make his fast exhales slow in pace. Everything was blurry and Alex felt dizzy, and the only thought he could make was that this was stupid. He wasn’t Kellin, Jack didn’t die. He wasn’t Dallon, Jack wasn’t kidnapped. So why the hell was he the one freaking out about it all? _Coward. Man up._

            “It’s okay. It’s okay.” Jack told him, and Alex was sure he didn’t believe the words himself. Someone was dead, another kidnapped, and they’d all received death threats. Alex was pretty the situation wasn’t okay, and he would have said so if he trusted his mouth to create a noise other than sobbing.  


            Alex didn’t know how long it took him to calm down. He didn’t know the time that was wasted crying in Jack’s lap, trying to unsuccessfully steady his breathing. Finally, when he was able to calm down, he just laid there in his husband’s grip, letting Jack run his hands through his hair as a way to calm him down. Jack always managed to calm him down, in the end. He remembered not understanding when his mom would say that love is a drug; it can either kill you or make you better. He never understood that until he looked into his best friends eyes one day, and suddenly they were different. They made his heart flutter and his breathing slow and he thought: _oh._

 

            As much as Alex would enjoy lying there forever, he had already been enough of a burden, and they had more pressing issues to attend too. “Jack.” He said softly, sitting up. “We need to go check on the others. Jack looked at him with concern, a look Alex hated. Jack shouldn’t be concerned about him. Alex always felt terrible when he made Jack feel anything other than happy. “Are you sure you’re okay?”  
  
            “I’m fine. We need to go check on the others.” Alex insisted again, his voice more urgent now. Jack sighed and stood, brushing grass off his jeans and offering Alex a hand. “It’s okay if you aren’t okay, ‘Lex. You’re allowed to let yourself-” Alex interrupted him abruptly with a glare. “Are _you_ okay, Jack?” Jack was silent. Alex sighed. “We’re going to go check on the others. Then we can take care of each other, okay?”

 

            They walked back to the group, hands entwined for support. Everyone was upstairs, but the sobbing from downstairs was still audible. “Is he okay?” Mikey asked, limping over to them. Alex winced. He hated that question. He was okay enough to be here, wasn’t he? “Fine.” Jack responded simply, and Mikey nodded, turning back to the group. Alex watched them all carefully. They all seemed shaken, but not that bad off. Then his eyes landed on Dallon.

 

            His eyes held no emotion. They were empty. He stood in the back of the room, looking like he was separated from everyone else, with a look on his face. Alex was scared of that look. It was one he often found himself wearing, although when Jack came into his life it had become less frequent. It was the look of suicide.

 

            “Alright.” Ray said quietly, drawing everyone’s attention. “We need to decide who’s going to turn in Kellin and get Brendon. The person who’s going to turn him in is most likely to get killed.” Everyone hummed in agreement, with the exception of Dallon. His head snapped up in disbelief. “Isn’t it obvious?” He asked. “Brendon is my problem. I go.” Mikey shook his head, wobbling up to Ray. “You’re important to us too, Dallon. Everyone in here is willing to risk their life for you, and we’re a team. We got in this mess together, we all should be willing-”

 

            “That’s not fair. Let me do it.” Dallon pleaded. “I was the one who dragged Brendon into this mess, let me drag him out.” Ray frowned. “Dallon, that’s a death wish.” Something in Dallon _snapped._ His dull eyes grew furious. “No _shit.”_ He snarled. “Even if this isn’t a trick and Brendon gets out alive, he’s going to hate me. He’ll find out exactly what I do for a living. Why ruin one of your lives when you can sacrifice a life that’s already ruined?” Josh frowned at Dallon’s words. “Dallon, you have kids!” Dallon banged a fist against his forehead, making Alex winced.

 

            “And you really think Brendon would let me see them, knowing I’m an assassin?” He retorted, sounding tired. “I’ve already lost everything. Just let me do this, _please.”_ Mikey glanced at Dallon, pursing his lips. “We’re drawing straws.” He says finally, making Dallon scream in frustration. “Anyone that isn’t willing doesn’t have too. Alex glanced around the room. People shifted uncomfortably, seemed hesitant, but everyone was murmuring agreement. No one here valued their lives over Dallon’s. Neither did Alex. 

 

            Mikey nodded solemnly and pulled the straws out of their ‘decisions jar’. Whenever two or more people couldn’t agree on who would do something, they would pull straws. Mikey made them all equal in his hands and shuffled them up, walking around and letting everyone choose one. When it was Alex’s turn, he was surprised to see he pulled out the straw that wasn’t cut at all. There was no way he was going.

 

            Alex wasn’t sure if he should feel good or bad about not going. Sure, he got to live another day, surrounded by people who care about him. But Alex had always been suicidal, and this would have been a great excuse to let himself die. Besides, if he wasn’t going, someone else he cared about was. The world was fucked up.

 

            And then he saw Jack’s straw. It was _tiny._ Alex’s stomach plummeted as he examined the room, everyone holding straws of various lengths. None of them were as short as Jacks. _Shit, shit shit!_ That wasn’t a part of the plan. Jack wasn’t supposed to go. Jack _can’t go._ “I got the shortest straw.” Jack said, voice unreadable. “No.” Alex whispered. Jack looked at him sadly. “Sorry, ‘Lex. I’m sorry.”

 

            “Let’s trade.” Alex and Dallon said at the same time. Jack looked conflicted, and pressed a gentle kiss against Alex’s lips. “Sorry.” He whispered. He closed his eyes, looked up, and turned to Mikey and Ray. “When do I go?” Ray looked sad. “You can always decide you don’t want too.” Mikey reminded him gently. Jack shook his head. “I got the short straw, it was fair. Just tell me when I need to go. Ray sighed, clasping a hand on Mikey’s shoulder. “Tomorrow morning.” He said quietly, and Jack nodded. This was it, then.

 

            Alex wasn’t the one who was going to die, but with Jack gone, he may as well be dead too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            “Don’t do it.”

 

            It was a random thing to see in the middle of a heated mess of lips and limbs, but Alex needed Jack. He refused to let Jack die. Jack looked down at him quizzically, hair messed up and lips bitten at. “Refuse. I’ll do it. Dallon will do it. Anyone but you.” Alex pleaded from under him, awkwardly, his shirt half-off. Jack sighed as he recognized the subject Alex was talking about and pressed his forehead against Alex’s.

 

            “Baby, I have too. I hate to do that to you, but I’d rather it was me than you or anyone else in that room.” Alex finally let out a chocked sob, one he had been keeping in with denial and disbelief. “No you don’t.” Alex pleaded desperately, tugging on his husband’s bare arms desperately. “Alex, you know I do.” Alex let out another sob and pressed Jack closer. “Kiss me.”

 

            Jack obliged, leaning down and pressing their lips together, his hands trailing down his sides. God, his hands were angelic. Alex couldn’t bear the thought of living without his hands, his kiss, his touch, _this._ Alex couldn’t let him go. So he wouldn’t. Alex had already thought about it, on the way home and as Jack was guiding him up the stairs to the bedroom. Jack couldn’t die. Alex wouldn’t sit around and let Jack be shipped off to his own death.

 

            Alex being shipped off to die? That was a different option entirely. One Alex was eager to explore.

 

            But exploring that option was the last thing on his mind at this moment. The only exploring he wanted to do was on that perfect body, like he had done thousands of times before. Alex was desperate for his touch, and he knew Jack was too. Because in the morning, one of them would be gone.

 

            Alex was just making sure Jack would be the one still standing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            It took a long time, but Jack’s breathing eventually stilled into the rhythm that told Alex he was sleeping. It was nearly one when Jack finally drifted off. Alex suspected his inevitable death was keeping him awake. Jack didn’t need to worry about that. He wasn’t going to die. Alex waited a little longer, just so he knew Jack was soundly asleep, and then got up, retrieving the clothes that had been thrown carelessly across the room.

 

            Alex got a new pair of boxers and slipped them on, his jeans and shirt following shortly after. He picked up the notepad and pen they left at their bedside table and hesitated. He still had so much he wanted to tell to Jack, yet he didn’t quite have the words. He didn’t want to leave Jack without a goodbye, though, so he jotted down a sarcastic comment. Perfect. What a great way to go. But Alex couldn’t think of anything else to say without staying there all day writing a novel.

 

            _I’m sorry, Jack. But I’ve always been a sore loser. When you find yourself someone better, don’t you dare name your kids after me. That’s too cliché, and I don’t want an Alex out there with unusually large ears or something. I love you. Sorry, again. I’d say more, but I’ve never been good with words. I’d say I hope you’ll forgive me, but maybe it will be easier to get over me if you don’t. God, I love you. Goodbye._

_~Alex Barakat <3_

            Alex left the notepad on the table, hoping Jack would find it. He retrieved his keys and his gun, sending one last adoring look at his husband before leaving their house for the last time. _Goodbye._

Apparently, Dallon had the same type of mind Alex did, because his car was parked outside the building when Alex arrived. Alex sat in his own car for a minute, wondering whether he should let Dallon do this, go home to Jack and trash the note. He instantly removed the thought from his head. He cared for Dallon like a brother, and Dallon didn’t deserve it. Alex jumped out of the car and snuck inside, careful not to disturb anyone inside.

 

            Sure enough, Dallon was in the basement, instructing the remaining members of Sleeping with Sirens to follow him. Alex whispered a sorry before running in, catching Dallon by surprise, and hitting him hard over the head with the butt of his rifle. Dallon fell to the ground, unconscious. He wouldn’t be out long, but it would be long enough for Alex to do what he needed to do. “Hi boys.” Alex said, breathing harshly as he looked up at the group before him.

 

            Kellin still had puffy eyes and had an emotionless look etched onto his face, and it made Alex hurt. He wondered if Patrick would spare Kellin. Kellin never did anything wrong. But did Kellin even want to be saved? His group wasn’t that better. He suspected they were close to ic as well, and either way, it must hurt to see their leader so distressed. “I believe Dallon here has given you false information. I assume he told you he was taking you to Patrick. That will actually be me. So, if we could all get in one straight line, that would be lovely.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Alex had hijacked one of their vans, driving to the location that had been texted to Mikey after the call with Sleeping with Sirens in tow. He was terrified, but he pushed that feeling down, letting the determination course through his bones. No one would die tonight besides him. Maybe Kellin and his mates, but Alex couldn’t really control that. And honestly? He didn’t know them enough to care.

 

            The location Patrick had given him turned out to be a rundown house, on the outskirts of town. Alex snorted, because could this get any more cliché? “Alright, get out.” He instructed the team behind him, who was listening to Alex surprisingly well. No reason to fight when you’re being returned, right? Kellin, though, was a different story. He was still an emotionless wreck, looking ahead with blank eyes. Alex hesitated. “Is he okay?”

 

            “What do you think?” The one Alex was fairly sure was Justin snarled at him. Okay. Rude. “I was asking if he was okay to walk and be a human and stuff.” Justin snorted, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘emotionless dipshit’, and Alex had half a mind to shoot him right then and there. But really, that wouldn’t help him much. So he just roughly pushed the boy inside the building, herding the rest after him.

 

            “Hello?” He called out into the house, seating Kellin down on an old couch. The rest of his group followed. There was a moment of silence, before the voice that had called him rang out from the kitchen. “When I said a day, I wasn’t expecting you arriving at 2 AM. I was having my coffee.” Alex froze up as there was rustling in the kitchen. The reality hit him. Shit, he was going to die. His time was out.

 

            A soft form walked into the room, and for a second he couldn’t believe that was Patrick Stump. His face was too kind. But his eyes were hardened, and the gun he held in the hand that wasn’t holding a steaming mug informed Alex otherwise. Patrick clicked his tongue boredly and looked over at the remaining members of Sleeping with Sirens. “You’re missing one.” He said, voice even. Alex shifted uncomfortably. “He’s not with us anymore.” Patrick just clicked his tongue again. “Ah.”

 

            An unsettling silence fell. Alex had thought the meeting would be sort, but Patrick seemed content with sipping his coffee and waving at his employees. Alex finally decided, _fuck it,_ and broke the silence. “Brendon?” Patrick hummed, putting his mug down. “Upstairs. I’m sure he would like to see you, but he’s a bit… _tied up at the moment.”_ Patrick giggled. Fucking _giggled._ He was insane. “You’re insane.” Alex voiced. Patrick just shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe you’re just jealous that I have a wicked sense of humor.”

 

            Alex opened his mouth to say something, then shut it, shocked at the man’s words. He was definitely some sort of insane. “Anyways…” Alex cleared his throats. “I brought, uh, I brought your team. And I’m here. So, could you please let Brendon go?” Patrick groaned. “Ugh. Fine. He was so interesting, though. I told him all about Dallon and his little secret. He didn’t know! You should have seen his face.” Patrick cackled, and Alex had the strange urge to punch him. Okay, maybe the urge wasn’t so strange. Patrick was acting very punchable at the moment.

 

            Before Alex could reply, Patrick had picked up his mug and wandered off upstairs. Alex pressed his mouth in a thin line. Of all the negotiations he had ever done, this was by far the strangest. Alex was worried sick for Dallon, who should be waking up now. Brendon knew everything. Alex had a feeling their story wouldn’t have that magically happy ending. Most of them didn’t. Alex’s thoughts were interrupted by Patrick dragging a half-awake Brendon down the stairs, his ropes undone and a man tagging along with him. He had red and black hair, seeming very short. He looked familiar, but Alex couldn’t place him.

 

            “Here.” Patrick said, shoving Brendon into Alex’s arms. Alex caught him as Brendon seemed to snap awake, instantly stumbling away from Alex. “Brendon!” Alex said, catching his attention. He had met Brendon at picnics, introducing himself as a coworker of Dallon’s. He wasn’t exactly lying. “Alex?” Brendon appeared confused, then angry. “Then it’s true? You aren’t-Dallon’s a-”

 

            “I’m sorry.” Alex cut in, making Brendon growl. “I-uh-he loves you. He just wanted to protect you. He was coming here to get you, but I stopped him. He’s still at our workplace, if you want me to give you the address-” Brendon cut him off curtly. “I don’t want to see him. I want to go home.” Alex winced. Oh, Dallon. “I, uh, okay. I have keys, a van is in the front. You can drive home.” A pause. “I’m sorry.” Brendon snorted and took the keys from Alex, eyes unforgiving. “Sure. I bet Dallon’s sorry, too.” And he was gone.

 

            Alex was a little hurt, but glad Brendon got out of this alive. He didn’t know him well but he knew him enough to care for him, and Alex would give up his life over Brendon’s any day. “Now.” Patrick said dangerously. “I want to know why you’re so intent on murdering my fiancé.” Alex felt himself trembling. “I, uh-” _Breathe in. Breathe out._ “Someone-we don’t know who, uh-threatened to kill our loved ones if we didn’t, uh, yeah.” Alex’s voice was dangerously wobbly. “I don’t want them hurt.”

 

            “I see.” Patrick said with a tone that made Alex unsure if he really saw. “Well, that’s all I wanted. I’ll leave Frank to clean up your body.” The red and black haired boy nodded, and it clicked. Holy shit. That was Gerard’s Frank. An assassin. Working against Gerard. Did he know? “Frank!” Alex said, the realization overpowering the fear of the gun Frank was holding up against him.

 

            Frank smiled. He shrugged apologetically, and before Alex could mutter a word, Frank pulled the trigger.

 

            Pain. Then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you Alex I'm sorry  
> im mean
> 
> Next Chapter: Impossible(Frank Iero)


	7. Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a series of events, Frank starts to piece together some puzzles he would rather remain unsolved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have an excuse for not updating either than chemo and laziness lol
> 
> Here ya go happy halloWiN

Something was off.

 

            Frank didn’t know what was bothering him. The guy who brought Sleeping with Sirens back, Alex-something was familiar about him. It was killing Frank. He felt like he was missing a piece of something obvious, he just couldn’t figure out what. He tried pushing the thought out of his head, but it was always there, lingering, his tiny little morsel of distrust.

 

            Frank was dragging the body to the fields, Patrick’s instructions ringing clear in his head. _Dispose of the corpse. Then take care of the captives. We need to plot our next move against the opposing team, and that starts with the identity of the brothers._ Frank was extremely annoyed with the brothers at the moment. Was it necessary to be so well hidden? The only information they had was their street names: Kobra Kid and Party Poison.

 

Party Poison’s hair changed every two seconds, and he always wore a yellow and blue mask to conceal his face. Something about him sent off all sorts of alarms with Frank, alarms screaming _familiar_ and _danger._ The guys brother was even more mysterious, as he always wore a helmet over his face. That was all they had on the database, and Frank was having a really hard time finding out who these guys were. Frank suspected some sort of torture on their teammates would have to be used to reveal their true identities.

 

After… _disposing_ of Alex’s bloody body, Frank turned back and headed towards the building once more. Kellin, Justin and the others had been returned safely, but Frank was there when Patrick put a bullet through Kellin’s boyfriend of nearly three years. Frank was fairly certain Kellin wasn’t in a good mindset at the moment. If Gerard had been on the receiving end of that gun, Frank didn’t know what he would do. He would probably follow shortly after.

 

Patrick had left, presumably to return to his fiancé. When Patrick got engaged, Frank almost died of shock. Patrick didn’t _feel,_ period. Frank had been his secondhand man for years, he should now. But when Patrick invited him over for dinner with Pete, who was his boyfriend at the time, Frank could see it. He could see the love and adoration in Patrick’s eyes. It was the same look Frank gave Gerard. Pete was Patrick’s whole world.

 

“Kellin?” Frank asked hesitantly as he observed his surroundings. Most of the members of Sleeping with Sirens where gone, presumably going home to wives and girlfriends or sleeping upstairs. Justin was mopping up the mess of crimson Patrick had made, but Kellin hadn’t moved at all. He just stared ahead, eyes full of heartbreak and numbness and _anger._ “Kellin?” Frank asked again, more gentle as he sat beside his trainee.

 

Frank had been put in charge of teaching Kellin and Vic. He had grown quite attached to the duo. It pained Frank to see Vic off, but regardless of his motives, he had betrayed them. Betrayal wasn’t tolerated in Frank’s line of work. “Frank.” Kellin finally said, broken. It sounded like he had been screaming and crying until he hacked up his throat. It wouldn’t surprise Frank if that wasn’t far from the truth. Kellin shattered when he said his mentor’s name, collapsing into Frank’s arms sobbing.

“Oh, baby.” Frank soothed, running a hand through Kellin’s long hair. “Poor, poor baby. I’m so sorry, honey. So, so sorry.” Frank meant every word, and he hoped Kellin could sense it. Justin could, apparently, because when he finished cleaning he sent Frank a _take care of him_ look before disappearing to wherever Justin goes. “He’s _gone,_ Frank. He was my everything and now he’s gone.” Kellin wailed.

 

An image of Gerard, lifeless and bloody on the floor. Frank pushed the thought away as soon as he thought it, but not without a sharp pain in his chest. Kellin was experiencing the real thing right now, and Frank couldn’t imagine how incredibly worse that would be. Frank probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it. He didn’t know how Kellin was holding up. “Do you want to remember or forget?” Frank asked softly.

 

They had done this dance before. When Kellin’s parents kicked him out, when his brother died. Remember or forget? Look back at old memories or drink them away until you couldn’t even remember your own name, much less your pitiful set of abusive parents? Kellin sniffled in Frank’s lap, pausing before answering. “Remember. I want to remember.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frank probably should be worried about Gerard noting his absence by now. He had been gone for nearly three hours now, and the sun was beginning to rise. It was around five. Frank wasn’t too worried though. He had left a note saying he couldn’t sleep and went on a walk to clear his head. Gerard should be fooled by that for a while if he does wake before Frank gets back. Besides, Kellin is in desperate need of a parental figure at the moment.

 

They had gone back to his apartment, the one he used to share with Vic, and pulled out the photographs. Kellin loved crafts, so he had books upon books with pictures of them with creative borders and stickers. Scrapbooking, Frank had learned, was one of Kellin’s favorite types of crafts. Kellin had stopped crying, but he spoke with a heart aching fond tone when he explained what each picture meant to Frank. Frank had always felt like a dad to Kellin, ever since they talked for the first time.

 

“That was Vic and I when we were sixteen, a few weeks before we got discovered and kicked out.” Kellin said, voice said as he pointed to a picture. Kellin coped by getting lost in memories, sharing those memories and what they meant with someone else. Frank could see the improvement already, though he doubted Kellin would ever fully recover from this. Frank looked down at the photograph, decorated in cheesy pink lining, and smiled. God, Vic was so young, too young to suffer the fate he did.

            The photo was so cliché it nearly made Frank cry. They were at a carnival, shown by the booths and rides in the background. Vic and Kellin looked like every high school drama ever. Vic was in all black, backwards cap, tattoos and looking punk as funk. Kellin, on the other hand, was dressed in a sweater and sweatpants with light pastel colors, complete with a flower crown and a teddy bear he was holding tightly. The contrast made them look odd together, but you could tell they loved each other.

 

“We asked some random lady to take a picture. Vic won the bear at a shooting game, he was so hyped. He gave it to me, of course, because Vic Fuentes with a teddy bear? Unheard of.” Kellin let out a mournful giggle. “I was so ecstatic. That was probably my favorite date. We eventually got kicked out, though, because Vic pushed some homophobic old man off some kids ride. It was amazing though.” Kellin sighed remorsefully, and Frank rubbed Kellin’s head.

 

“Vic was a great guy. He really loved you.” Frank told Kellin gently, and he hung his head. “I know. That was his downfall, wasn’t it? He broke the rules because he hoped he could save me. He’s always been so stupid.” Kellin sighed, his thumb tracing Vic’s outline longingly. It made Frank’s heart break. “God, Frankie, what am I going to do without him?” Frank nudged Kellin with his shoulder.

 

“It’s going to be hard, honey. But you’re one of the strongest people I know, you’ll push through. For now, want to watch some crappy teenage heartthrob movie and eat ice cream?” Kellin, who was once again suppressing tears, sniffled. “Vanilla ice cream?” Frank grinned. “ _Homemade_ vanilla ice cream.” Kellin fell onto the bed, clutching the scrapbook in one hand and the same stuffed animal in the photograph in the other. Kellin sent him a strained smile. “What are we waiting for, then?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            After a marathon of three teenage heartbreak movies and two breakdowns later, Kellin finally fell asleep around eight. Frank had gotten a text from Gerard asking if he was alright around the middle of the second movie. Frank had texted him back saying he was fine, he had gotten news from a friend that he got his heart broken and was there for moral support. Gerard believed him and texted back his sympathies. Well, Frank wasn’t really lying.

 

Frank left the sleeping boy wrapped up in blankets on the bed, cleaning up the popcorn and ice cream spills from their binge session. Kellin’s face was contorted into one of pain, and he kept whimpering and tossing in his sleep. Frank suspected he wasn’t blessed with good dreams tonight. Frank felt angry. Angry at Patrick for killing Vic, angry at those other assassins for essentially destroying Kellin as well as Vic. It just wasn’t fair for the boy.

 

Frank picked up all the scrapbooks, putting them back on the shelf. Vic and Kellin had known each other since middle school, and they’ve been dating since sophomore year of high school. A scrapbook was open, showing photos of them from different time. One was them in middle school, faces covered with acne and ice cream from the cones they were eating. They had shorter hair, and Vic was missing a few of his teeth.

 

Another was of them in high school, Kellin obviously laughing as Vic picked him up on the hip, grinning mischievously. Frank felt a pang of grief and quickly shut the book. He had loved Vic too, just not in the way Kellin had. Vic and Kellin had entered Frank’s life a little less than a year ago, thrown away by their parents for their love. Frank had found them in one of their darkest times, and he had instantly taken a liking to them. Vic’s death had hit him hard.

 

Frank had been there; he had _seen_ the life leave Vic’s eyes. Patrick had found him trying to track Pete, planning to kill him. Frank had been called, and he had pleaded with Vic to explain what he was doing, but Vic refused. “ _He’ll die.”_ Was all Vic would say when asked why he wouldn’t answer. Frank was desperate for him not to die, but Vic had already doomed himself. If Frank stood up, he’d be a rotting corpse as well.

 

Patrick had allowed Vic one call, and of course he called Kellin. Frank had been on the verge of tears. He hadn’t heard from Kellin in a few days, and the call explained everything. Frank had managed to trace the call and pull up some information on the group. Frank had hoped Patrick would spare Vic after learning the reason he was conspiring against him, but Patrick didn’t care. Some days, Frank really hated Patrick.

 

Frank pulled on his coat and began the walk back home to their crappy apartment. His thoughts drifted from Vic to the man he had killed-Alec? Alex? Frank couldn’t quite place the name, but he knew it was something along those lines. Did he have a wife, husband, kids? Who was missing him? Did anyone even know he was gone? Frank bit his lip. These types of thoughts always came after he killed someone, and he hated them. They made him feel impossibly guiltier.

 

Thankfully, Frank didn’t live too far away from the sight of the crime, so he made it home in little time. “Babe?” Frank called into their apartment as he entered, tiredly kicking off his shoes. He needed to sleep. He’d call in sick to his cover job at Starbucks. Frank could faintly hear Gerard’s voice from the bedroom, he was probably on the phone. Frank snuck to the bedroom and confirmed his suspicions. Gerard was on the phone, hand over his mouth and looking shocked.

 

“He- _god._ I…does Jack need anything? Are you okay? I…I can’t believe…shit. Okay, I, um, I’ll be right over, okay? Do you need me to pick anything up? Okay…I’m so…god. Okay. See you.” Gerard hung up and dropped the phone on the bed, looking like he was on the edge of tears. “Gee?” Frank asked hesitantly, sitting next to him. Gerard practically flew into the air.

 

“Frank, shit! I didn’t see you there.” Gerard gasped. Frank nodded. “Sorry. What was that?” Gerard fell into Frank’s side, obviously trying to refrain from crying. “I…one of my coworkers died in a car crash. I was really close to him and his husband.” Frank frowned. How many deaths were going to affect him this week? “I’m so sorry. How’s the husband holding up?” Gerard put his face in his hands. “As expected. He didn’t even know his husband was out. I just…I think I’m going to go visit him, is that okay? I don’t want him to be alone.”

 

Frank nodded, remembering Kellin’s breakdowns. “Go help your friend, I’ll be just fine. Do you need anything?” Gerard shook his head, getting up and looking for his shoes. “I’m fine. I’ll pick up a few things on the way there for Jack.” Jack. The name rang a bell in Frank’s mind, and he felt uneasy suddenly. “Okay. Call me if you need anything, okay?” Gerard nodded, pecking Frank on the lips before rushing out, fumbling with his phone.

 

Once Gerard had left, Frank searched for his laptop, finding it wedged in-between novels in the book shelf. He opened it and pulled up the information Patrick had sent him on the case. Frank was beginning to worry. He had connected some dots, and he really wishes he hadn’t. He searched the files until he found the one he was looking for. His stomach flipped over, Frank felt like puking.

 

_Jack & Alex Barakat._

Frank scrolled through the file with a sick feeling in his stomach. Sure enough, the Alex he had shot was in the pictures, usually smiling and laughing with another man, presumably Jack. What are the chances that another man named Jack lost his husband around the same time Jack Barakat lost Alex? Frank hurriedly exited the file, opening the one on the mystery brothers.

 

Frank felt tears threaten the edges of his eyes as he looked through the pictures. _Holy shit._ How had Frank not noticed before? He knew Party Poison’s jawline. He knew that skin tone, that hair, those lips that he’s kissed so many times before. Party Poison, the one Frank has been plotting to kill, is none other than his boyfriend of nearly three years. Kobra Kid was Mikey Way, his brother. _Holy shit._

That wasn’t possible. Frank felt like breaking up into laughter. All along he thought he was the one keeping all the secrets. He thought he was the one in danger of being left. Gerard was an assassin too- _how was that possible?_ How was Frank’s luck that bad, so bad that he fell for another assassin? One his boss was currently at, like, war with? This wasn’t fair. This was not possible.

 

Frank wanted to curl up and cry. He wasn’t too concerned with Gerard hiding his job from him. After all, hadn’t he done the same thing? But the fact that he was on the enemy side was devastating. Frank felt like he was in Romeo and Juliet. And, much like the said couple, Frank doubted they would have a happy ending. Frank couldn’t and wouldn’t fight against Gerard. Should he even talk to Gerard about this? Does Gerard know Frank is an assassin as well? Frank’s head was swimming with questions, and none of them had happy answers. Oh, god.

 

Frank had killed one of Gerard’s friends. Could he ever forgive him after that? Brendon had seen Frank. Will Brendon tell Gerard? He doubted it. Frank suspected Brendon was somewhere far away now, terrified of his husband and the threat he posed to their children. Frank had always worried about being caught in that situation. But now, honestly, he would take that over whatever the fuck is happening.

 

 

Frank put his head in his hands and sighed. He needed a day off. He quickly texted Starbucks, telling his boss he wasn’t feeling good and was taking a sick day. He really wasn’t feeling well. This took midlife crisis to a whole new level. “God.” Frank whispered to himself. Could he go on working under Patrick, knowing the love of his life was on the other end of the gun? Could he fake it for that long? Frank still had at least a year left of his contract. This issue would have to be resolved before then.

 

Frank had never been suicidal like Gerard had once been, but at the moment, death didn’t sound like such a bad option at the moment. How was he supposed to make it through this when he knew the person he was fighting against? Fate had it out for Frank. Or maybe this was just karma catching up to him. Either way, Frank was falling apart. _This is impossible._ He told himself for the tenth time that minute. Because it was.

 

What were the chances Gerard had been an assassin too? Slim. Even less that he was an enemy assassin, plotting unknowingly against Frank. Frank had never been good with math, hated it, actually. But he would bet that the chances of this happening were practically nonexistent. So why the hell did this happen to him? Was this his punishment? Was Frank finally getting what he deserved?

 

He didn’t know how long he had sat there until he got a call. Answering without looking at the caller, he numbly mumbled a hello into the phone. He was still in shock. “Hello, Frank. Is everything settled and clean? Has Kellin and his crew been properly taken care of?” Patrick Stump. The exact person he needed. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.” Frank replied. “Okay. I’m looking for a replacement for Pierce the Veil, but the remaining members are resisting. Have you been looking into the remaining members of the opposing assassin team? Have you found anything about the brothers?”

 

Frank took a deep breath. He pictured Vic’s eyes fading, Kellin’s tears. He pictured Mikey and his friend-Ray?-laughing and smiling for once. He saw Alex’s pleading looks. Most importantly, he saw Gerard, smiling and looking to Frank with loving eyes. Frank took a deep breath. He was sure what happened to Vic wouldn’t happen to him. He’d be careful.

“No, Patrick, I haven’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRONK I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE PAIN


	8. Beautiful Scars on Critical Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dallon deals with the loss of his family, and his coping methods may not be the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARININGS-SELF HARM. If you are uncomfortable with the subject, skip the last section. This part of the chapter begins after the last 10-Space skip. Stay safe.
> 
> SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING OH MY GOD. I feel like such a bad person, but I broke my phone periodically and I rarely have the time to write. I'm so sorry

Two hours after Alex was shot dead, and Dallon was a mess.

 

            To be fair, he was going through a lot at the moment. Guilt and relief that Alex died and not him. Sadness at his death, of course, his group was as close as brothers. Worry for Brendon and Jack. Dread at seeing Brendon again, if he even gets the chance. He was scared of confronting his husband as well, scared of Brendon inevitably taking Knox and Amelie and leaving.

 

            Dallon knew he had lost it all. He knew from the moment Patrick had called, telling them he had Brendon. Brendon wouldn’t forgive a killer like him, in fact, Dallon would be lucky if Brendon didn’t call the cops on him. And there was no way in hell or heaven Brendon would let Dallon see his kids. Knowing this, he had wanted so badly to die and save Brendon. He had planned too. But Alex had taken his place, and he was back to nothing once more.

 

            That left him driving to where he once called a home, head still throbbing and filled with dread. Mikey had offered to come with him Gerard and Josh with Jack, who was more of a wreck than Dallon was. Another pain of sadness wracked through Dallon’s body. The loss of Alex was striking their group hard, Dallon included. He felt like multiple pieces of who made him Dallon had been ripped away, leaving him empty and confused as to who he was.

 

            Mikey’s face was stoic as always, but he was hurting too, Dallon could tell. The way his hands shook ever-so-slightly and how his eye would twitch informed Dallon that Mikey was on the verge of tears. It was next to impossible to read Mikey’s expression, but the group was tight. Everyone had picked up on his signs. Although, if you wanted a more accurate read, you should ask Ray and Gerard. Those two could read Mikey like a book when everyone else was clueless.

 

            He pulled into the driveway of his house a few melancholy thoughts later, feeling weak and sick when he didn’t see Brendon’s red car in the spot next to his. It was there last night when he came home to two kids, a dog and no Brendon. He had explained to the kids Brendon was gone for a while at work, and they’d be doing fun things while he was away. The car was there when the kids passed out at midnight with ice cream smeared over their faces, the thought of their absent father gone. And now the car was _gone._

            “It’s no use.” Dallon said weakly as Mikey exited the vehicle, waiting patiently for Dallon. “He’s gone, Mikes, he’s gone.” Mikey sighed. “You don’t know that for sure, Dallon. Let’s just check. And even if he is, you’ll need some things to pack up. I’m not leaving you alone if he is gone.” Dallon swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to put on a brave face. Attempting. He was trying, really, but images kept popping into his head, making him want to fall down and cry or slit his wrists and disappear.

 

            Dallon stopped at the door, fumbling for his keys. His vision was blurry and he couldn’t remember which key opened the door to save his life. After a few minutes of desperate grasping, Mikey sighed and pulled the knob on the door. It swung open, inviting the duo inside the seemingly empty home. “It’s open.” Mikey stated plainly, and Dallon was fighting off tears. Brendon never left the door unlocked. He was always paranoid of danger. Now he knew the danger wasn’t just outside his home, but it was sleeping next to him. Dallon would run away too.

 

            Mikey stepped into the house, looking around. Dallon hesitantly walked in after him. A flower vase had been knocked over in the hallway, the roses Dallon had bought on the floor. They were stomped on, as if someone had run off in a hurry. Dallon wanted to throw up. “Hello?” Mikey called into the house, receiving no answer. They weren’t expecting one. “The dog’s gone.” Dallon said unexpectedly. Mikey turned to him and raised an eyebrow in question. Dallon felt the tears finally flow.

 

            Whenever Dallon would come home, he would first be greeted by Penny, wagging her tail and slobbering all over Dallon’s shoes. He didn’t hear her excited barking or the pattering of her paws. Brendon had even taken the dog. He was really _gone._ Brendon wasn’t coming back. Knox, Amelie, Penny, they weren’t _coming home._ That was the last straw that Dallon had been grasping at, and now it was gone, and he was letting the tears fall. “She’s gone with them, Mikey.” Dallon sobbed. “They’re never coming back.”

 

            “Oh, Dallon.” Mikey said, his voice a little sad. That meant Mikey was full-on sobbing on the inside. “I’m so sorry.” Mikey pulled Dallon into an awkward embrace (Mikey wasn’t one for PDA) and rubbed his back, letting the taller male sob into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” Mikey repeated, eyeing the house. The cupboards were still flung open, random things missing and some items left on the floor. Brendon had taken the essentials and left in a haste, leaving nothing but pointless belongings and a broken husband.

 

            “I want to see their rooms.” Dallon said, distraught. “I want to see their rooms.”  Mikey hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I’m coming with you, though.” Dallon nodded, looking up the stairs and wiping his tears. It was pointless, as he was still crying, but it made him feel a little better and slightly braver. He shakily climbed up the stairs to the second story, where the Weekes family slept. He stopped in front of his son’s room, taking a shaky breath and opening the door.

 

            The room, of course, was devoid of human life. It was left like Dallon had left it last, with the exception of a few of his son’s most treasured stuffed animals being missing. Dallon almost wanted to laugh, because of course Knox would refuse to leave without Claw the Cougar. His drawer was carelessly thrown open, a few of his clothes missing. Dallon had stopped crying, but he erupted into tears at the sight of the room of his son. Could he even call Knox his son now? Would Brendon let him?

 

            Amelie’s room was no different. Of course, her valued belongings varied, a child make up kit and some Barbie’s. It still hit him hard, because his babies were gone. He wouldn’t ever see Amelie laugh again, or Knox contort his face as he tried to lick chocolate icing off his nose. Those kids he raised from wailing infants to giggling toddlers, the ones he’s had for years, were taken away from him in an instant. How was that fair? Dallon picked up one of Amelie’s leftover dolls and held a hand to his mouth to try to control the sobs.

 

            Everything Dallon had known for years, everything that had made Dallon Weekes _Dallon Weekes,_ had disappeared, leaving Dallon an empty shell of a man. How was Dallon supposed to function without trips to the mall, holding tiny hands in his as his children gushed at toys and items they could never afford? How could he live without sweet, quick kisses from his husband that communicated more than words ever could? Hell, how was he supposed to continue without walking his goddamn dog?

 

            The last stop, the one Dallon had been dreading the most, was his room. The one he shared with Brendon. Brendon Urie-Weekes. If asked, would Brendon say that name? Would he drop the Weekes in shame, or would he change his name all together? Dallon shook his head. The door was still open, so he didn’t need to wait in anticipation as Mikey turned the knob to wreckage. No, he just walked in, immediately noticing the closet open and a few of Brendon’s clothes missing. Dallon was tall enough to see the top shelf of the closet, noticing Brendon had also took the emergency money.

 

            He was glad his family had something sustaining them. Dallon didn’t want the money. Other than that, nothing was really misplaced, other than a picture Brendon knocked down, in clumsiness or anger, Dallon didn’t know. It was a picture composed of many photographs. One was Brendon and Dallon on their wedding day. Another was when they adopted Amelie, the next Knox’s adoption. The bottom was a picture of all four of them at a park, smiling happy at whoever was taking the picture. _The Weekes,_ it read in fancy lettering. It hurt Dallon impossibly further. Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly be ruined more, he noticed the note on the bed. Unfolding it, he instantly noticed Brendon’s rushed handwriting through the tear stains, older ones from his husband and newer ones from him.

 

_Dallon-_

_Fuck, I honestly don’t know what to say. I’ve rewritten this like 10 times, but none of them felt right. This one didn’t, either, but I’m pressed for time, so it will have to suffice. I hope you can make do with this pitiful explanation, because I can’t offer a better one. I’m trying to explain the emotions in my head as I write this…the only word I can use to begin to explain is broken. I feel like everything I knew for sure was just a lie, and now I’m left confused and hurt. I didn’t want to believe that man, when he said you were like them. But then your friend came, and he told me. He told me you weren’t what you said you where, and I realized no one was trying to fool me. I was trying to fool myself._

_I just don’t understand. Why in the world would you ever consider a career in killing people? I’ve known you for seven years now. Seven years, Dallon Weekes was the center of my universe. Now I know Dallon Weekes was a lie. Everything I thought to be true was a lie. Did you even truly love me? Our kids? I don’t know anymore, Dallon. I don’t know you, and I’m doubting I ever have. This is all so odd to me. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, or you, or us next. I don’t know if there will be an us. I don’t know what will happen to Knox and Amelie. How am I supposed to explain all this to them? Have you ever thought about how your lies affected your family? Did you ever care enough to think?_

_All I know now is that I have to keep the children away from you. I don’t know, and it pains me to say, or even believe, that you’re dangerous, but what do I know about Dallon Weekes? Apparently not as much as I thought I did. And even if you weren’t a threat, I know you somehow got yourself involved in some big scandal. And I’m afraid that will threat them. So I hop         Be you understand that I’m leaving, and I’m taking the kids, and we’ll probably be gone forever. I just don’t know who you are, Dallon, and I’m not sure I want to know. I’m not calling the police or turning you in. I loved you too much to do that, and it probably would make me and the kids a target. Please don’t look for us. God, this is so hard. I never thought that I’d ever need to leave you, and it’s tearing me apart. I’m just so hurt and confused and angry and scared, Dallon._

_That’s it. That’s what I feel right now. That’s my reasoning. Please don’t be mad. I loved you, Dallon. Just know I truly loved the man you portrayed with all my heart. But you’re a danger and an entirely different person, and I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other anytime soon, if at all. I’m sorry._

_-Brendon Urie_

            Brendon Urie. Not Brendon Weekes, or even a Brendon Urie-Weekes. So, this was it. This was really it. Of course, Dallon knew it was over from the start. But this was just the final enclosure, the real thing. Brendon wasn’t a Weekes anymore. Well, by law he is, but not by heart, and that’s what really matters. Knox and Amelie would never see Dallon again, probably believing some half-assed tale Brendon managed to spin. His family was gone, not his family anymore. Brendon would move on to someone else, the kids were so young that Dallon would be nothing but a distant memory. Brendon said he was broken, and Dallon was definitely feeling broken too.

 

            The room started to spin, and the last thing he heard was Mikey’s slightly concerned voice before he promptly passed the fuck out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Dallon wasn’t all that familiar with the stages of grief. He knew they existed, and had some sort of pattern they followed. Dallon didn’t remember the pattern, or the exact feelings one went through, as he hadn’t lost much in his life. But if he had to label his stages of grief, he would probably list the following.

 

_Stage 1: I’m broken beyond repair._

_Stage 2: I’m fucking angry as fuck and fuck you, you fucking fuck._

            Dallon is currently experiencing the great Stage 2. He was so mad he felt his insides boil, and if he was a cartoon character, he’d probably be red with smoke coming out of his ears. Because _how dare Brendon?_ Dallon understood, painfully well, that he had made a mistake. But didn’t couples work out their mistakes? “That wasn’t just a mistake, Dal. I don’t think I could forgive someone if they did that.” Mikey attempted to talk sense into him, but Dallon wouldn’t see the truth in Mikey’s words. He was so, so angry, at Brendon for stealing his life away from him, at himself for causing Brendon to act like that. Hell, he was mad at their fucking dog. He was just _mad._

That’s why he was pacing holes in Mikey’s living room, tearing at his hair at muttering furious words under his breath. Mikey was sitting on his couch reading a book, occasionally letting his eyes flit over to the other man. Dallon supposed Mikey was his personal babysitter now. That made him ever angrier, even though he knew that he was a danger to himself and his surroundings. Dallon was grieving, and he was allowed to be angry if he wanted to be. Mikey looked at the clock, sighing. “Ray’s coming over for dinner in half an hour. Do you want to join us, Dallon?” Dallon stopped his pacing and fixated his angry glare at the other man. “Of course I’m not going to intrude on your date.” Dallon spat, adding an eye roll for extra measure.

 

            Mikey froze up and a light blush dusted his cheeks. For a moment, Dallon forgot about Alex’s death, he forgot about his family running away because _holy fuck did Mikey Way just blush?_ “Not a date.” Mikey mumbled, closing his book. “Fine then. Go mope around in the guest room.” Dallon, still stunned, nodded and headed off for the room Mikey directed him too. “Call me if you need anything, Dallon!” Mikey called, but Dallon was angry once more, and didn’t care to listen to his friend. He didn’t need anything, other than a vase to smash and Brendon’s shoulder to cry on. Unfortunately, he had neither.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Stage 3: I don’t hate you, actually. I hate myself._

            Two hours later, Dallon was back to sobbing uncontrollably. How could he be so stupid? It was no wonder Brendon left him, he was a wreck. He didn’t deserve Brendon. He didn’t deserve love. Trying to keep his sobs to a minimal so he didn’t disturb the happy (couple?) pair in the dining room, he stumbled to the bathroom, searching for what he knew Gerard had hid there years ago. He found it hidden in the bowl of the toilet: a thin razor blade. Holding the sharp object in his shaky hand, he lowered it to his wrist. Paused. He was being selfish. The group lost Alex, they didn’t need to see new scars on Dallon’s clean wrists and worry about him as well.

 

            But the thing was, he needed to feel something other than the absolute crap he had been feeling. He needed some sort of pain to deal with all the wrong he’s done. Dallon gave a wobbly smile to the blade. He could still do this, he just needed to be sneaky about it. He grabbed ahold of his waistband and slowly pulled down his pants, revealing a bony hip. Dallon’s other hand, holding the blade, went to it and sliced a thin line across the skin. A crimson red line appeared, the sight calming Dallon down more than it should. The blade struck again, and again, until future scars and blots of crimson painted his hip. Dallon’s breath had gone back to even, and his hands didn’t shake as much as they did before.

 

            Dallon washed the blade in the sink and placed it back where he found it, dabbing the blood with toilet paper so it wouldn’t stain through his jeans. He felt considerably better. Some people did drugs. Some harmed themselves. Some did both. It looked like Dallon would fall into the second category of unhealthy coping. He didn’t really care, though. What life was worth living if he wasn’t living it with Brendon? He stepped back after flushing the bloody toilet paper and examined the bathroom. Mikey would never suspect what happened in there. He doubted he even knew about the razor in the bathroom of his apartment. And he never would have to know.

 

            He snuck back to the guest room, hearing Mikey and Ray talk as he went. Their conversation sounded light-hearted and serious at the same time. _Only Mikey._ Dallon closed the door and flopped down onto the bed, ignoring the dull pain in his side. He tossed and turned, but he wasn’t able to sleep. Even cutting hadn’t been enough to chase away Dallon’s waking nightmares. Dallon grimaced at the ceiling. If his world was this terrible when he was awake, maybe it was better he didn’t fall victim to night terrors.

 

            Then again, nightmares no longer wait for sleep, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(
> 
> Comments and feedback are much appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos(mostly comments, honestly) really motivate me to write, so please, give me feedback! I listen to all your opinions, jokes, and whatever you want to comment! 
> 
> This should be updated every day except Thursdays, because I work late Thursdays. I can't promise I'll update every day though, life happens! But I'll try! 
> 
> Thanks for reading the first chapter, I hope you enjoyed it!


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